


Beyond the Twilight

by ElenaSparks



Series: Beyond the Twilight, Over the Thousand Suns [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AND DRAMA, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - kingdoms, Brotherly Love, Derse and Prospit Kingdoms, Did I mention angst, F/F, F/M, Knight Dave Strider, Lots of tears, M/M, Magic AU, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Dirk Strider, burning on the stakes, for now, mentioned - Freeform, public nudity - not graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaSparks/pseuds/ElenaSparks
Summary: Skaia was the name of the continent, surrounded by vast blue ocean without another continent in sight for thousands of miles. The continent was divided into two major countries in which two major kingdoms ruled the entirety of the lands.They were Prospit: the Land of A Thousand Suns, and Derse: the Court of Twilight. These two countries exist in a fragile balance, the eternal rivals.Therein exist a law the two kingdoms shared, however; that no magic can exist in their lands.Dave Lalonde didn't ask to be born in such a weird and convoluted era. And he certainly didn't ask to be born as a sorcerer. But apparently nobody cared about what he wanted anyway.





	1. Prologue-The Three Kingdoms

Skaia was the name of the continent, surrounded by vast blue ocean without another continent in sight for thousands of miles. The continent was divided into two major countries in which two major kingdoms ruled the entirety of the lands.  
  
They were Prospit: the Land of A Thousand Suns, and Derse: the Court of Twilight.  
  
In the east, the aptly named Prospit, was the country of abundant harvest. Name one plant; Prospit had it, and in an ample number too. There weren't any kind of earthly produces that Prospit didn't have. The lands were blessed with the most beautiful greeneries in Skaia. While the towns were small and modest, the castle was covered in gold. People said that the palace shines brighter than the sun, and therefore, the name. Prospit was the richest and the most peaceful in all of Skaia.  
  
In contrast, the western country of Derse was a military country. The strongest soldiers, the wisest of tacticians, Derse was an impenetrable wall of Steel and burning embers. The country was rich of ores and jewels. The shipyard on the eastern part of the kingdom housed the most majestic of ships. Be it freight, collier, steamer, the pier of Derse was never empty for even a day. Located next to the Skaia River, the largest body of water in the continent which leads to the ocean, it almost seemed like Derse were the ruler of the ocean itself.  
  
The two country of Prospit and Derse existed in a fragile balance. The peaceful, smaller Prospit existed in utter fear of the bigger and stronger Derse, whom in all its power, was like a huge predator, ready to devour the smaller one at any given moment. A peace treaty that was signed a few hundred years ago was the only thing keeping the darkness from devouring the light. The two existed in one tipping scale.  
  
There used to be another country, a smaller, yet strong country in the north by the name of Alternia. The land was blessed with eternal summer, forever foreign to the cold and snow. Alternia was the home of the wise, the smartest and the most studious. However, it was also the land of magic, the forbidden arts, the bridge to the unknown. The other two countries feared Alternia's curiosity in the unknown, forever anchored to the reality that they could grasp in front of their very own eyes. Alternia was the land of insatiable curiosity. Passed down by blood, the magic of Alternia were the gift, and the bane of Skaia. Alternia was, an unpredictable one of the big three.  
  
During one winter of the year of the Lucent Moon, one group of bandits of sorcerers and sorceress tipped the balance of the three-way scale, causing an incident that forever wiped Alternia away from the scale and reducing the country to nothing more than mere memories. The magicians were skilled, able to break down the law of physics and time. They caused destructions and countless death in the other two kingdoms, evoking chaos in both lands. The intrepid Derse, who never once stepped down from a challenge was indignant. In one cycle of a sun and a moon, Alternia was wiped off the face of the earth.  
  
Ever since, magic was wiped from the face of history, never to be brought up again. It was made law that those who was found to be practicing the forbidden art would be burned on a wooden stake, stripped off all their belongings and any articles of clothing, exposing their cursed state for the world to see. It also meant to symbolise abandonment; that not anyone or anything in the world would want to accompany such a disgusting and miserable creature to death. It was a slow and painful death, enough to scare the bravest of the brave.  
  
And thus, the line of the magicians were severed, and almost a hundred of years have passed since then.  
  
This is a tale that took place in a year before the hundredth anniversary of the establishment of the covenant, in the a small town just in the southern side of the capital of The Kingdom of Derse. Where a small boy was about to embark on his destiny to change the entire course of history.  
  
His name's Dave.  
  
And this is his story.


	2. The Boy in The Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skaia was the name of the continent, surrounded by vast blue ocean without another continent in sight for thousands of miles. The continent was divided into two major countries in which two major kingdoms ruled the entirety of the lands.
> 
> They were Prospit: the Land of A Thousand Suns, and Derse: the Court of Twilight. These two countries exist in a fragile balance, the eternal rivals.
> 
> Therein exist a law the two kingdoms shared, however; that no magic can exist in their lands.
> 
> Dave Lalonde didn't ask to be born in such a weird and convoluted era. And he certainly didn't ask to be born as a sorcerer. But apparently nobody cared about what he wanted anyway.

The legacy of the sorcerers and sorceresses from the past depicted nothing more than pain and suffering.  
  
The word 'magic' was nowadays uttered like a curse. The line of magicians, once a grand and noble descent, was now the lowest of the lowest, placed underneath the pile of garbage. So low they were regarded that not even the animals would be willing to go near them as they were filthy and condemned. Nowadays the practice of magic would only be rewarded with painful and slow death.  
  
But that didn't mean the line was necessarily broken. The remaining magicians lived amongst the normal people, blending in the innocent life, fearful of what misfortune their bloodline might bring them. What once was considered a previlege, now a curse. The magicians gave up upon the practice of magic out of fear of death and suffering.  
  
However, there were those who were brave enough to continue the legacy. There were sorcerers and sorceresses who would speak of their bloodline with pride, but not nearly enough to do so in public. They would, however, continue their research and training in secret. Sometimes, one of these people would be found, and sentenced in front of all the citizens, burnt to death while being mocked by all who watched. But the fear didn't stop all of them from continuing their proud work, didn't stop them from hoping that one day, the line could be pronounced with hope and pride once again.  
  
Dave's mother was one of these people.  
  
Roxy Lalonde was the descendant of magic, a beautiful talented sorceress who was strong hearted and brave. She was known for her contribution to the magical society about the knowledge of the void; the realm unreachable and untraceable. The sorceress of Void was always prideful of her bloodline and continued her practice, even after the banning of the arte. She separated herself from her mortal husband and took residence in the small town of LOHAC in the southern area of Derse, where she raised her son with all the knowledge and pride she had about magic.  
  
Funny how that would have such a contradictory effect on her son.  
  
Dave Lalonde was a skeptic who didn't fancy having the said 'mystical blood' flowing through his veins. He detested everything concerning magic and blamed it for his parents' separation even though his mom denied it having any relation to their divorce. He also defied his mother's urging for him to work on his own skill.  
  
He knew he had it; the power. He started at a young age of 5, when he unintentionally killed his mother's potted petunia with a single innocent touch. The act had badly traumatised him and he had detested magic ever since. On the contrary however, his mother, instead of being angry, was proud. She knew then her son was a sorcerer of time. She tried persuading him to hone his skill, claiming it to be one of the rarest skill in the world of magic, clamoring about how proud she was. It didn't convince her son, though. And after trying to persuade him for years, she decided to let him be. He was still her beloved son and she wanted him to live as he liked.  
  
So how come right now, as of eight years later, Dave was praticing simple time magic?  
  
Well, it all began when he was 7. On the day that the coronation of the Prince of Derse had taken place.  
  
The prince had travelled throughout the territories of Derse to announce his tenth birthday and his official coronation. Dave and his mother had attended out of formality and had planned to bail as soon as the caravan passed. For Dave who had his birthday on the exact same day, it was a bummer because his birthday would seem so tame compared to the prince's.  
  
However, he was awed instead, when he saw the prince's face for the first time.  
  
The prince had sparkling golden hair swept back neatly to fit his tiara, the small golden heart-like shape adorning the top of his brow in beautiful magenta. His eyes were the brightest of orange and from the distance Dave could see a small excited smile on his face as he greeted his people. His skin was pale in contrast to the pinkish red on his cheek and his breath formed puffs of white in the cold winter air.  
  
Little Dave couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off the older boy. It was as if he was enchanted by one of his mother's spell or something, but his mother would not do something like that to him. He couldn't understand the feeling at the time but he kept his eyes on the prince all the time.  
  
He could've sworn he locked gazes with the crown prince for the shortest mili-second before the caravan drove away.  
  
But the shortest time was enough; Dave was fixated with the older boy.  
  
Ever since, whenever the prince had to make rounds through his little town, Dave would always attend without miss. He would only catch the prince's glimpse for the shortest amount of time each time but it always filled him with an unknown satisfaction. His mother hadn't been aware of it back then, but this obsession had been the much needed spark for Dave to learn magic.  
  
It was summer on the second cycle of Fallen Moon.  
  
The prince was attending the celebrations of good harvest in LOHAC when suddenly a stray arrow came flying from beyond the trees of the nearby forest. Dave had catched a glimpse of the flying arrow when he suddenly realized that the prince was the target.  
  
His prince was in danger.  
  
He may or may not had screamed out 'NO!' —which was drowned in the clamouring of the crowd—and raised his arm when suddenly, the arrow came to a halt just a couple inch from the prince's face. It was only a couple seconds but it was enough for the prince's knights to dive in and drag the boy to safety. What followed almost felt like it happened in the background—the crowd went in an uproar as the knights marched to capture the assassin—while Dave, was in utter and complete shock.  
  
He had absolutely no intention of using his magic but it had happened. His magic had saved his prince and nobody had realised it!  
  
His magic could save people!  
  
It was a contrast to what happened with his power before when it took the life of the pretty petunia. His magic had saved someone's life! It all went so fast and so well that in his little mind then, he realized; he _could_ use magic without getting caught! Later on his mother had explained to him that being next in line to the throne of Derse, such attempt on the prince's life would not be scarce. He had been lucky Dave's power decided to let out an outburst then, or he would've been dead.  
  
It was enough.  
  
Dave started honing a simple time stop magic then afterwards. His mother had been pleasantly surprised by his change of heart but also worried because of the boy's motivation. Dave had expressed deep feelings of awe and respect for the crown prince and she was worried his obsession might become his downfall one day. More than anything she didn't want him to get hurt, so she warned him everytime: that he should never let anyone know of his powers or he'd be killed.  
  
The thought of death scared Dave, but not enough to stop him from wanting to protect the prince with his powers. In his mind, he was a hero; protecting the prince when nobody else could. As he grew up, he sadly came to realize he could only do so much when the prince was always miles and miles away from him. He couldn't really protect him because the prince was always out of his reach.  
  
It was when he started wanting to become a knight.  
  
He remembered the attendants who saved the prince's life back then; they had been knights too. In his little mind, Dave dreamed about becoming one of the purple clad warrior who stood beside his prince, protecting him secretly and silently. He had expressed this wish to his mother but it was greeted with disappointment and reluctance from the older woman. She had reasoned that to become a knight, one must attend to the extremely strict lesson 24/7 which meant Dave wouldn't be able to see his mother for a long time; at least until he was knighted which usually took more than 5 years. Moreover, the closer he got to the throne, the more danger he was exposed to because of his magic. Dave wasn't a full-fledged sorcerer yet and his powers were unstable. She feared for his life should an unpredictable hiccup happen.  
  
The love for his mother and the fear of death had been enough to scare the young Lalonde away from reaching out to his dream. But even as time passed by, his obsession with the prince hadn't waned. It wasn't until he was ten that his mother passed away from an unknown illness. Her death broke Dave's little heart, but it had released him from any kind of shackles that had prevented him from fulfilling his long time dream. Alone and aimless, the young Lalonde shook away the remaining fear that had rooted deep in his heart and finally joined the army. He was determined that if he should walk the rest of his life alone, he would do it where he always wanted; by his prince's side.  
  
And so here he was, a relatively young page in the training ground, wielding a sword, fighting against a stupid unmoving dummy.  
  
The page's training was a chore. In the morning they had to assemble right before the sun rose, and in the evening they had to do so again before the twilight fell. The rest of the day would be filled with sword training and tutoring in military strategies and basic knowledge. The knights were supposed to be proficient in the art of fighting and so the harsh training with the weapons were held for long hours each day, under the scorching sun and in the freezing weather. Dave wasn't exactly a big fan of the snow and the cold southern wind of Derse was especially freezing. The training was beginning to become a heavy burden whenever he had to leave his warm bed and into the large training ground. Plus, he found sword fighting to be stupid.  
  
He was quite good with swords but he still had a hard time fighting his fellow pages with them. Everytime anyone would get injured by his slashes, he would back off immediately, and to say that it pissed his tutors off would be an understatement.  
  
Which was probably why he got kept in the training grounds as of this late.  
  
The sun had already set and the stars were shining above the darkened sky. The tutors had punished his 'cowardice' with a few extra hours in training. He had to keep striking the stupid blameless dummy with the stick until his tutors told him to stop—which didn't seem like it would be happening anytime soon—and Dave was beginning to lose all feelings in his arms. He huffed, taking a small break as he hunched down on his wobbly knees. The extra work was making him get rather light-headed. It hurt to think that maybe this kind of life really wasn't for him after all.  
  
His mother used to say a lot of things concerning the Twilight Knights. One of them being having to be ruthless when it came to battle. The knights were soldiers who protected the throne. Sometimes when it came to protecting what's important, other things became insignificant. They had to be able to take lives to save others. In a way it was the despicable way of their lifestyle but Dave had never thought of it that way until he started the training.  
  
When he first killed his mother's potted petunia, he felt so guilty he cried all night. He hadn't meant to hurt it; he just wanted to see how it could be so pretty. But the consequences of his actions made him despise the act of taking others' lives, or even to see them hurt. He didn't think it was right to hurt others to protect the important ones. He didn't think it would strengthen people to endure injuries and wounds everyday but if that's how the knights do things, he would do it.  
  
Easier said than done.  
  
Everyday he would regret ever entering the castle ground after a harsh day of training. He would always long for the warmth of his old house in LOHAC, for his mother's goodnight kisses, for the warm meal after a day of work. It didn't make the hurt any less by entering the army. If any, it made him feel even more lonely.  
  
“Taking a break, soldier?”  
  
The voice came so suddenly that Dave immediately jumped and started hitting on the dummy again like a scolded child. The voice suddenly rang with a merry laughter that was less harsh the head tutor's, which made Dave pause. He turned around slowly and found the figure of someone he had longed for outside the castle walls. The figure of someone he would've abandoned everything for.  
  
Standing in all his splendor, was the small figure of the Prince of Derse, his pale face illuminated by the light of the crescent moon above as he gave a smile and stretched his hand for Dave to take.  
  
“Hello, Dave, my name is Dirk, Dirk Strider. How do you do.”


	3. A Time of Reprieve

The castle walls were even colder and seemed taller than it appeared from the training grounds. The interior of the halls that were so alien seemed to be judging him as he trotted pass them, following after the slightly taller older boy that was his prince further into the royal chambers. Dirk— the prince seemed rather nonchalant himself as he led Dave deeper into the places he wasn't supposed to be in. The younger boy kept looking back, afraid the freaky bulky tutor of his would suddenly find him and punish him with no food for a week or even worse; keep him outside for three straight days without rest or something. 

“Don't look so nervous, I don't bite.”

The prince's voice rang so clearly and calmly Dave couldn't help but feel even more nervous, if not embarrassed that the older boy had noticed his fidgeting. The golden haired boy had a small smile as Dave looked at him guiltily. 

“I-I'm sorry, Your Highness,” Dave scolded himself as he felt his voice shake. The prince still didn't break his smile but he looked a little down at Dave's uncool attitude. Biting his lip, the young squire shook his head to get rid of his nervousness and blurted out, “Ser Zahhak wouldn't like it if he goes to the training grounds only to find me missing, so I was just— uh, I mean— ”

The response he got was at least more than a little reassuring as the prince laughed. “Is that what you were worried about?” his pale face broke to a huge grin. “Worry not, soldier, you're in the presence of the Prince of Derse. If I can't protect you from knight Zahhak the big bully, I'd be a waste of space in the Twilight Halls.”

Dave felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest as the prince turned around still laughing and walked further into the sleeping chambers. He followed the older boy beyond the huge golden mahogany double doors of the prince's own room. Dave stared at the collection of swords and various (admittedly) rather creepy dolls near the huge dresser of the room—especially one with long noodle arms and legs and eyes so freaky they seemed to be following his every movements. But the sight of the prince looking at him expectantly took his mind off the older boy's rather eccentric hobby entirely. The prince looked like as if he was expecting Dave to comment on something, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what.

“So.”

“S-so?”

“Stop parroting me, you ridiculous soldier.”

Dave immediately bowed his head. “M-my apologies, Your Highness, I mean no offense by that,” he said quickly. The prince seemed displeased by his response however as the smile was immediately wiped off his face. He turned around, only to throw himself onto his huge bed.

“Stop being so stiff all the time. And after all the trouble I went through trying to get you out of the punishment too,” he said with a small pout. “I've seen you fight by the way. You don't seem to enjoy sword fighting too much.”

“N-no, of course not, I assure you, I am more than capable of fighting, Your Highness,” Dave replied even quicker than before. His heart was beating so hard in his chest with fear. In his head, thousands of possible scenarios where the prince announced that he was no good ran amok like wild beasts. But the prince just seemed amused by this as he threw a smirk at Dave's general direction.

“Relax, I didn't mean to sound judgmental,” he said reassuringly and Dave's shoulders sagged in relief. “Still, never before have I seen someone so unwilling to fight like you in the army. Why did you even joined the army?”

Dave's face reddened. He looked to the side, suddenly feeling ashamed by his 'noble' goal. He had always thought he was doing something commendable by devoting himself to the crown. But when being confronted about it, everything just seemed stupid and naive. The prince seemed rather fascinated by the way Dave started to fidget at the questioning, however.

“You okay there, soldier?”

“I wanted to become a knight so I could protect you!”

Dave quickly slapped his hands in front of his mouth as Dirk's eyes widened the size of a saucer in response to the answer. Then he started laughing so hard, clutching his stomach as he rolled around on his bed. Dave felt his face getting so hot he thought he was gonna be cooked alive by his own blood or something. He was so embarrassed he felt like crying when the prince suddenly jumped from his bed and strode only to stand in front of his face, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Cool answer, soldier,” he said. “So ironic by the fact that I'm stronger and more capable of doing the protecting. But hey, who doesn't love a good irony every now and then.”

Dave found himself staring as the prince offered him an outstretched hand. “Why don't you stick around then? Learn to become strong enough to doing the protecting, but until then, I'll be doing the dirty deed of taking care of you.”

“I've always wanted a little brother myself.”

Right now Dave knew he looked like an idiot, staring at the prince with his mouth wide open. The prince was grinning at him as he stuttered out a “L-little brother?” Dave clenched his fists on his side so tightly they turned white. “B-b-but, is that even possible? I mean I'm not royalty, I'm barely a page as I am now...”

“Ever heard of sworn brothers?” the prince said in response. “They say the bond formed willingly is always more noble than the ones by blood. I'll take you under my wings and you can learn from me as much as you can until you surpass me and become strong enough to take responsibilities over my safety. And by doing so, you become my little brother and me, your older brother. How does that sound to you?”

Like a goddamn wonderful dream if Dave were to be honest. 

The concept of being able to get close to the prince had always been Dave's main subject of daydream. He had always hoped that he would get picked as the prince's sparring partner or something. And then maybe the prince would spare him a glance, become interested as to why a late bloomer such as Dave could be in the army at his early teens like this—most of the recruits started earlier. He would then ask Dave to do his best after besting him in a sword fight, and maybe one day he could even stand amongst the knights, swearing his allegiance to the crown. Then the prince would smile and say,

“I remember you, you know.”

Dave snapped his head up as the prince sent him a smug look. He had to double check to make sure he wasn't hearing things as the prince nodded reassuringly to him. 

“You were the boy in the crowd,” Dirk said with a wide grin, as if proud to have come up with the nickname. “I noticed you're always standing in the crowd whenever I make runs around the villages. At first I didn't really pay any attention because well, the first time I made a round was on my birthday; everyone had to attend that.”

“But after the second, third, and even fourth time, I notice you were always there. You always tried to overcome your disadvantage in height by making your way amongst the crowd of people. I even remember you climbing a food stand one day—a fried potato food stand—because everyone was blocking your way. I think you got scolded right as I pass by; I remember hoping the owner of the cart didn't grill you too hard. You didn't mean any harm.”

Dave was slack jawed as he listened to the prince describing their 'encounters' with such clear and vivid imagery. The prince seemed fond of the memory as he smiled widely throughout the entire story. “I also remember a blond woman, the one with your nose who always walked behind you,” he said and suddenly Dave was filled with an extreme sense of loneliness. “I think she must be your direct relative. Who is she? Sister? Mother?”

“M-mother…Your Highness,” Dave added hastily, almost forgetting that he was in the presence of the second highest in the throne of Derse. “She's gone.”

He didn't mean to say that. 

It wasn't like the prince even care about that, not to mention it was such a mood-dragging topic to talk in such a light-hearted situation. As if on cue, the prince's smile dropped and he looked away as if ashamed and immediately Dave felt guilty for opening his mouth. 

“Oh, geez, sorry.”

Dave's eyes widened. He didn't expect the prince to be the one to apologize. He was the one who brought up the topic, why was the prince the one who apologized? The older boy looked like a kicked puppy as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I don't mean to be inconsiderate but,” he turned to look at Dave in askance. “What happened to her, if you don't mind me asking?”

Of course not, why would Dave mind? He was the prince; he could do whatever he wanted. 

“S-she uh, just fell ill one day I…didn't know what was wrong until…” Dave gulped and looked down, playing with his fingers. “She just didn't wake up anymore. It had only been a couple of weeks and yet…at least she went in her sleep; the doctors said it meant she didn't suffer. Or at least shouldn't have suffered. Who knows. I was asleep the whole time. Even after I promised I'd watch over her…I still…”

It hurt to think about how she promised him she'd be okay. It hurt to remember how she used to wake him up with warm breakfast every morning, even when she was ill. It just didn't seem fair how she was still capable of working just the day before. She still reminded Dave to ask for her guidance if he wanted to learn a new spell, even the night before she left forever. 

God how he missed her. 

“H-hey, don't cry, it's gonna be okay,” the prince's voice broke through his train of thought and only then did Dave realize he was indeed crying. Tears that he hadn't shed since the day he buried her flowed like twin rivers down his cheeks, unrelenting. Dave stared at his palms in confusion, still not caught up to the entire situation. Then suddenly the prince was kneeling in front of him, frantically trying to wipe his tears with a piece of cloth from his side table. It immediately snapped Dave out of his stupor and he flinched away, muttering apologies for his rudeness while trying to stop the waterworks. It didn't work though, his body just wracked itself with sobs as he curled into himself, crying with all the pent up emotions. 

He missed mother. 

He missed the warm meals at home. 

He missed waking up to her horrible singing in the morning. 

He missed the smell of booze that she would sometimes secretly drink when she thought he wasn't looking. 

He missed the magic and the incantations she would show him every time. 

The prince had sat himself by Dave's side when the younger boy managed to recollect himself enough to notice his surroundings. The prince had the fingers of one pale scrawny hand carding Dave's shorter strawberry blond hair in an awkward but comforting way. It took everything in Dave's power not to broke down there in front of his liege. But if the prince minded his weak and unprofessional behaviour, he didn't show it. Instead, he was being very accommodating to his episode. 

“It's okay, you can cry all you want. After this, you don't have to cry anymore because from now on, I'm going to protect you. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'll be there for you whenever you need someone,” the prince whispered softly, hand moving to circle around Dave's smaller form. “Because we're brothers now. We'll look after each other. It's a promise.”

Dave spent the rest of the night there, in his new brother's room, crying until his tears run dry with his prince/new sibling's arm tight around his shoulders. And despite the emotions and sadness in the air, for the first time since his mother's passing, Dave didn't feel so lonely anymore. 

==>

The next day was interesting to say the least. 

Ser Zahhak looked for him in the morning, just as he had expected. The prince—Dirk, he insisted that Dave called him that: “I'm your Bro, you don't have to address me as your lord when there's just the two of us around, it'll make it awkward.”—bailed him out and just as he said, nobody made a big fuss about it. Ser Zahhak did question what the prince wanted from him though, Dave thought he looked a little concerned, which touched him a bit. He told the burly knight the prince just wanted to talk a bit, about his past, about his future plan and the likes. It wasn't like he was lying about that. The real things they talked about weren't about to leave his mouth for a long time to come though. That belonged to him and Dirk alone. 

Dirk. 

He liked the sound of that. Never would he have thought for a thousand years that he could actually call the prince by his name. The older boy actually adopted him as his brother! Despite no promise of any royalty, Dave was elated. He didn't want any title anyway. What he wanted was a bond and he got one. A very noble and strong one at that too. He never would've thought that he'd be so lucky. Him, the boy in the crowd. 

Or the beloved one, as the others had nicknamed him by the end of the month. 

Dirk was actually treating him like a real family and didn't even bother trying to conceal his fondness of Dave. He'd come pick the younger boy up after a day of harsh training session, take him to his room and talk until they both passed out on Dirk's royal bed; Dave hadn't used his own rickety bed in weeks. The older would even sometimes wait for Dave when he was being kept for extra hours by his mentors. Of course he didn't just wait; he'd actually distract Dave until they end up rolling on the dirt laughing instead of training. Sometimes he'd be kept by his studies and Dave couldn't see him for days on end. It would be lonely during those days but Dave would wait patiently until Dirk could make time for him again. 

And he eventually would. Every single time. 

Dirk even stared teaching him the stuffs he learned from his tutors. Dave was receiving royal education secretly and sometimes he had trouble concealing the fact that he was further ahead of everyone in terms of education. He knew it'd get both him and Dirk in trouble if they knew the prince had been teaching him stuffs privately, so he kept quiet as much as he could. 

He knew some were suspecting, though. 

Ser Zahhak actually confronted him about it one day. 

“You are a lucky one,” he had told Dave. “It's no secret that the prince is fond of you. The rest of the recruits do envy you for that. I hope you know that much.”

“Yes I am well aware,” Dave had replied. “I am not stupid.”

“I know you're not. Otherwise everything his highness had taught you would be for naught,” he said. Dave had gone frigid in horror before the older man patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Relax. I didn't tell anyone about this. I had suspected, that's all. Glad to see you're still the honest young man that I saw on the first day you came.”

“Just…be aware that you have close to no friend in the recruits. They view you as rival; as obstacle to overcome,” he had continued. “They'd try to sabotage you, if only they weren't so afraid of what the prince might do to them should he find out.”

“And I do suggest you tell him should they ever dare to try anything. You can't let anyone trip you, even if they don't like you, what you can and should do is stand by what you believe in,” he told Dave as he wrung the sweat soaked towel around his neck. “My good friend once taught me that. And I think it'd do you good as well to receive her wisdom. Especially since you might just be next in line to be the prince's Twilight Knight.”

It never crossed Dave's mind to even gain such a noble position. A knight was noble enough, but to be the Twilight Knight? It was the title reserved only for the best of the best; those who overcame every other knights and were chosen to be the shadow for the royal family, who follows them wherever they go. They were the captain, head of the knights, one of the highest of ranks achievable by non-noble borns. Usually a Twilight Knight would be chosen for the newly reigning king by a competition or directly by the said monarch. After the king retired, the Twilight Knight usually retired with him, returning to a normal peaceful life that they couldn't have before. 

And Dirk didn't have a Twilight Knight yet. 

But was he really strong enough? Was Dave even capable of overcoming all the other knights? He was a good swordsman but didn't have what it takes to be called excellent. Many other recruits were stronger and faster than he could ever hoped to be. 

He stared at his hands. But he did have something they didn't, didn't he? He had this 'curse'. The power that tormented his every waking moment; could it really be his secret weapon? Could it be the thing that would enable him to surpass the others? 

Could he really turn this burden into his own personal gain?

Him? Dave Lalonde? Sorcerer of the court? There's no way such title could be acceptable right? Magic was prohibited by the consequences of death here and everywhere else under the banner of either Prospit or Derse. 

The thought of it scared him. The thought of what would happen should he be found out was so frightening he could immediately feel the magic in him bristle in attempt to protect himself from the nonexistent threat. Mother did say he had to learn to control fear and emotions because magic responded severely to both. He couldn't afford to get caught. Lest everything would be for nothing. 

If he did get found though…how would Dirk react? 

The thought probably worried him the most after the threat of painful horrible death sentence. What would Dirk do? He never once mentioned the word magic anywhere near the crown prince for obvious reasons. Dirk was a rule abiding man. His father, even more so. Raised in such a strict environment, he had always kept true to the law and everything else that had to do with the good of the country. Dirk was the levelheaded one between the two of them. He'd probably make some sort of logical judgment based on the situation somehow, should he ever find out. 

But what kind of decision would he come up with?

That thought scared Dave. Even more so than the thought of death. Would Dirk be disgusted with him? Would he reject Dave? He would, wouldn't he? After all, nobody would accompany a magician to his death.

It's the verse he was so familiar with. The very law of magic prohibition spoke of the filth that was magic and such foul thing would drive away anyone and anything. Not even one's own possessions would accompany them to their deaths should magic be involved. They would always be alone, neither people nor items would be burned with them on the stakes because they would be disgusted with the sentenced. 

The very thought of being alone to such a horrible death depressed him. 

It was probably apparent that the thought stuck with him for days on end, since Dirk had since attempted to cheer him up multiple times. Dave didn't even think the thought had manifested in real life at all until Dirk made it apparent by taking him to the castle's blacksmiths that one evening to Derse's respected master smith. 

The workshop was huge, fires of roaring embers lit the entire place orange. The sounds of muffled conversations could be heard from beyond the walls, accompanied by clangs of metal against metal. It would be the sounds of activities from the other smaller work-spaces next door. But this one room was devoid of such activity. 

The sole occupant sat on a big wooden chair fiddling with some small trinkets on his desk. 

“Darkleer,” Dirk greeted with a wide grin and the man turned to face him and Dave, who gulped, obviously intimidated by the size of the master blacksmith. Horruss Zahhak, older brother of the knight who mentored Dave since he entered the palace, was a much older man with burly physiques much like his younger brother, with weird googles covering his eyes. His long black hair was held up in a ponytail, a look contrasting his brusque appearance. 

But then the man grinned a gap toothed smile and the look suddenly made sense. 

“Hello there, young prince Strider, I see you've decided to grace my lowly place with your presence again, huh?” He chuckled, voice deep but not unfriendly. Dirk shrugged beside Dave. 

“Yep, thought I'd kill some time today in the warmth of your workplace. It's freezing out there with the first snow and everything,” he said, before gesturing to Dave as he hopped along the place eagerly. “Oh, this guy's Dave. He's the little shit I've told you about.”

Dave suddenly tensed up again when Horruss 'Darkleer' Zahhak turned to regard him with a small amiable grin. “So you're the 'beloved one' everyone was talking about?” He said as he moved to shake Dave's smaller hand. “Good to finally meet the lad who'd captured the selfish brat's attention.” He pointed towards the prince, who gave him a sidelong glance and huffed his chest in mock insulted gesture. 

“Watch it, this brat could easily strip you off your position,” he chimed with no malice whatsoever. “You've got the thing ready right? Tell me it's ready!”

“It's ready, oh the mighty impatient one,” Horruss laughed as Dirk hopped in front of the biggest fire pit. Once again turning to Dave, the older man gave a gentle pat on the young squire's shoulder. “You do good by him. He's been a lot more chipper with you around. Usually he doesn't take anyone down here ever you know.”

“He doesn't?” Dave tilted his head slightly to the left, attempting to catch a glance of what the prince is up to. He didn't even know the prince frequented this place at all. Didn't seem like something he'd do at all. 

He probably didn't know Dirk as well as he'd like to, then, he thought sadly. Horruss did give him a reply then, “Nope. Said this place was his sanctuary. A man doesn't take other people to his sanctuary you know.”

“It's really done! Wow, check this thing out!” 

The sight of the prince waving around a small trinket in his hand caught Dave's attention and he walked to the older boy's side with Horruss trailing slightly behind. When he made it to his older brother's side, Dirk was fiddling with something in his hands. He turned to Dave with a grin and opened his palm. Dave opened his mouth in awe. 

A small red hand painted cogwheel pendant strung on a golden chain sat on Dirk's hand, gleaming under the orange light. It wasn't something that would be used for the machineries since the design was too simple but Dave recognised it. 

It was the exact shape of the symbol on the satin sheet his mom made him, the one sitting on his bedside table at his own room, unused but not forgotten. 

He didn't know Dirk even knew it existed at all. 

He was then too stunned to do anything as Dirk reached his hands around Dave's neck and secured the joints of the chains. The pendant dropped to his chest as Dirk stood proudly admiring his own work. Dave was speechless as he too, paused his train of thought to inspect the thing around his neck. 

Did Dirk just gave him a necklace?

“What do you think? Looks great isn't it?” Dirk prompted the speechless Dave. “Tell me it looks great. My ego needs the stroke.”

Horruss laughed at the prince's excited face and patted Dave's head, which stood at least five heads beneath his taller form. “Give the lad some space, Prince, he wasn't prepared for that shit you just pulled,” he said, before turning to Dave. “He slaved over that thing for days. Before you asked, yes, he did make that especially for you. He bothered me to teach him until I said yes.”

“Well blacksmithing is fun,” Dirk shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. “I just thought I should make something for someone else because I want an honest praise. If I do it for myself, I'm gonna like it anyway because of the efforts I put into it. Other people would be more honest about it and let's face it, I love getting praises. It's always better to hear it from others.”

The grin on Dirk's face was expecting something clever to be thrown back at him but he certainly didn't expect a smaller blond blur to crash into his chest. His eyes were wide in surprise as Dave nuzzled his nose onto the older boy's chest, arms tight around his waist. 

He might've said 'thank you' and 'I love it' but he noticed his words were muffed by the clothing material of the prince's vest as he attempted to smush his face further into the older boy's chest. He felt the older's awkward laughter rumbling his chest as an arm was placed around his shoulder. 

“Well this works too,” he said a bit lamely and faintly Dave could hear Horruss's laughter echoing in the background. He didn't care if it was himself or the older boy who's being laughed upon as he too, uttered a brief laughter. It touched him how the prince was so thoughtful to grace him with a handmade gift just to cheer him up. It also made him feel so warm inside because his thoughts and prospective future could try to frighten him as much as they wanted, but he would always jump right back to reality, to the present where a loving brother would think about and take care of him when he was feeling down. 

And suddenly, the future wasn't so scary anymore.


	4. The Twilight Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's background story and a time skip.

The Kingdom of Derse, positioned right in the center of Skaia's largest trading district, was considered to be the biggest, most populated area in the entire continent. Being the most visited area in the trading business automatically translated to be the most powerful kingdom in the continent. Derse had the most powerful of armies; the wisest of tacticians; the greatest blacksmiths; the finest weaponry. Dubbed the Twilight Court, it was as if Derse was forged from iron and steel in the heat of the LOHAC Volcano that was located near the south east border of the kingdom. 

And the King. Oh, who would in their right mind try to clash with the King of Derse. 

King Diedrich Strider was the reigning royal of Derse, whom in all his majesty was very smart and powerful. Under him the very kingdom grew strong and prosperous; even more so than the time during his predecessors' rules. It was under his father— the previous king's reign that the three major kingdoms were reduced into two. He himself witnessed the growing power of the country under his father's mentorship and under the same banner he now stood in his place, continuing his regency in the same strict but fair manner. Derse triumphed under his watchful eyes. 

And currently, next in line to the Violet Throne, was the young golden haired prince by the name of Dirk Strider. 

Dirk was raised under a strict mentorship from his father. The extent of power that Derse possessed was drilled into his head by the age of five, and he was constantly reminded why the king of Derse had to be clever and logical; because all that power couldn't fall into the wrong hands, lest something not unlike the war of the sorcerers might happen again. 

Being the prince meant that Dirk had to learn from the early age of 5 about how to take care of a country. He learnt history, mathematics, science, cartography, etc. He was taught to be levelheaded, never to let his heart rule his head. He always had to choose the right path, and not the good one, even though he might know that the right path, might not always be good for everyone. 

He had to understand that he couldn't play favourites; the king had to be fair. He had to be brave and strong; brave and strong enough to make the necessary sacrifices to protect the majority. When it came to his kingdom, he had to ignore his feelings and let common sense play the part no matter what. He had taken this advice seriously and learnt to always let his brain decide his moves, let his logic overcome his feelings. 

They dubbed him the Prince of Heart. Ironically because he was the heartless prince; always making sure he was right and logical in every way. The citizens respected him, some even feared him. The knights followed his every words; the maids bowed their head when he passed the hallways. Everybody in the court involved him in all decision makings, and every minister agreed he was on his way to become a very strong and successful inheritor of his father's throne. 

He was, a very strong and successful king-to-be, a respected prince, and a very lonely boy. 

Dirk Strider grew up in an environment who didn't let him just be a kid, or grow up like one. When he started reading, what his father gave him was a record of all the things his predecessors had done in the past to build the success that was their country. When he finally learned to talk, his first word was 'King', not 'father', because that's what his father was addressed as and what he said most frequently in front of his child even when they were alone. He started drawing maps, not flowers or animals, singing their national anthem as his first song, and sword fighting as his first sport. 

His father raised a future king, not a son. 

Being feared by some and respected by others, Dirk grew up without a company of someone his age. Ever since he was little, he always fancied the idea of having siblings, especially as he stared beyond the castle walls at the children roaming the streets. He sometimes would get lost in thought about himself spending time like that with someone else who would laugh with him, hug him when he was sad, and run with him across the castle's huge field. He wanted company; he wanted a friend. 

He was familiar with the title he had been dubbed with. The Prince of Heart; yet the heartless one. He knew what it meant. He knew it meant he was doing a good job as his father told him to be. He knew that meant he was being smart and logical instead of foolish and emotional. As much as it made him proud to see people respecting him, it also made him sad. 

Because he didn't want to hurt anyone. 

He knew how much it pained the sellers to have to pay extra charge for entering Derse. He understood how much 8% of tax meant to the little people. He didn't want to see those assassins killed and for their family to lose their loved ones. He didn't like making an example of a criminal to prevent such similar act in the future. 

But it was the right thing to do. 

His father told him that they were necessary sacrifices. He was told to never look at things too closely because it would cloud his judgment but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help glancing towards the poor moneyless family of the bread thief whose hands were chopped off as punishment. He couldn't help but pity the smaller merchants who had to pay entrance fee with all the money in their pockets just to gamble whether or not they could survive the day at the market with all the bigger competitors around. He felt bad for those people but his father was right; from the point of view of the lowly people, this rules had been merciless, but for the long run, it was for the best. 

And so he told his father he agreed. And he understood what must be done. 

It sometimes made him feel so bad about himself. He felt like a jerk; like he couldn't do any good to anyone. His father's few praises had meant little when he didn't even acknowledge Dirk's feelings or even talk about his own. Feelings were like, the biggest mistake in life and should be avoided like a plague, in his majesty's own words. It made Dirk felt bad for having them. It made him feel like he had to supress them. 

But he couldn't. 

He always felt inferior due to this. That he was a failure dressed in a good king-to-be's skin. He didn't feel good. If anything, he felt like scum of the earth sometimes. 

It was Dave that managed to drive these feelings away. 

Dave made him feel different. Dave, the boy that he found to be staring at him from the sea of people, the boy who looked at him like he himself had painted the moon in the sky. The boy who genuinely liked him. The boy who just happened to be given to Dirk by fate as an act of mercy of some sort. 

He found himself locking gazes with the little boy for a mere second during several of his visits to LOHAC. After the fourth time, he always insisted on tagging along with his father when they visited LOHAC. He enjoyed knowing that the boy was still there, that they both still existed under the same sky. 

And then he found out the boy had entered the castle walls. 

He was elated; so happy to finally be able to see the boy face to face. He didn't understand the fixation he had with the boy, but he had always been attracted to the younger's presence. Always wanted to know more about the child whom he didn't even know the name. Then he got into speaking with him directly during one late night training session. 

It surprised Dirk to know that Dave had the very intention of coming to Dirk one day if he didn't notice the younger first. Dave wanted to become a knight; wanted to be able to get to know Dirk even if just a little. It touched Dirk to know that someone wanted to be his friend.

And Dirk always wanted a little brother. 

He knew he was being manipulative by coaxing Dave into being in a deeper bond than friendship with him, but he couldn't help it; he just didn't want Dave to leave. Being brothers meant they had something far stronger than mere friendship. They were family and that was a special relationship that Dave wouldn't be able to get out of once he got in. Plus he knew Dave couldn't resist the idea of a family once he found out the younger boy's parent had passed away. 

He knew he could be such a heartless manipulative bastard sometimes.

But he also knew he could be a good brother; he knew that. 

That's why he tried to give Dave everything he could've ever wanted. He took the boy to play around in the castle, taught him things the other trainees wouldn't otherwise learn, bail him out of troubles, talk to him whenever he could, console him when he was feeling down. 

He was a desperate asshole and he knew it. 

But he really couldn't help it; when he was with Dave, he felt…normal. He felt just like any other people; hanging around his little brother, teaching him things, talking…he didn't feel like the heartless prince the people dubbed him to be. He could breathe more freely when Dave was near. 

He couldn't lose Dave. He didn't want to. That's why he'd keep on playing this role of good brother. He'd be Dave's shoulder to lean on, be the cool strong dependable figure for him to rely on. He'd be anything as long as Dave would stay with him. He didn't want to return to that life where everything felt so distant and cold. Dave was warm and close, and so, so real. He wanted that. He needed that. 

“Bro!” 

The golden haired prince had insisted Dave addressed him as such, if not his name only when they were alone because it felt so, so much closer, so much warmer. He turned to see Dave fidgeting by the door, looking more excited than nervous. He gave him a smile and invited the younger boy in. Dave hopped to his side and then crouched, looking at the map he was holding in his hands with a curious look on his face. He looked so much like a child like this and Dirk liked that he did, because Dave was a child—they both were. He was allowed to act like such around Dirk and vice versa. 

“The map is made by a cartographer called the Disciple a thousand years ago,” Dirk began explaining. “Even then, Derse had their territory up to more than a tenth of the entire land. It signifies the greatness of this kingdom's rulers and is a good lesson to learn about our history.”

“And oh so boring,” Dave chimed. 

The innocent look on the younger boy's face was tauntingly smug and knowing that Dirk couldn't help but grin before tossing the map away. Dave gave a shrill scream when Dirk wrapped his arms around the younger boy's middle and started tickling him. They rolled around on the floor with Dave trying to get away and Dirk trying not to let go until both their neat clothings were a good mess. Dirk laughed at Dave's disheveled look and his red face as he gasped for air. 

“Bro, you jerk!” He mock-pouted. The older just gave the most innocent look he can muster. Dave knew what he was in for the moment he made that comment. “I was going to give you something but I changed my mind now; you'll never see it!”

That got Dirk's attention immediately and he raised his eyebrow. “You got me something.” He parroted. “What did you get me? And what's the occasion?”

“Nothing! Since you insisted on being a jerk and all!” The now eleven year old said in a sing-song voice. Dirk narrowed his eyes, a mischievous smirk broke out on his face. Oh so that's how he wanted to play huh?

“Oh, alright, since you asked so nicely…” 

Dirk pounced and got Dave on the ground once again. Dave let out a yelp before starting to wrestle with his older brother on the soft carpet of the royal palace bedroom. Dirk let out peals of laughter as he started tormenting his little brother once again, tickling even more relentlessly. Dave's chocked up laughter and his desperate attempts of getting out of the 'heartless torture' went unheard to Dirk's ears. 

Yeah, he really didn't want to lose this. 

==>

“Okay, okay, uncle! Uncle, father, mother, whatever! I give! I give!” Dave finally conceded after minutes of relentless tickling. Dirk finally stopped and stood up, offering Dave a hand which he accepted and helped him up. “Geez, Bro, have mercy; you're almost twice my size.”

“Wait till we can start sparring for real,” Dirk grinned, which sent internal shivers down Dave's spine. “Don't worry, I'll be sure to burry you down the apple tree on the backyard. At least then you'll get eternal supply of apple juice that you like so much.”

“Your concern is heartwarming,” Dave rolled his eyes. “Anyway, my gift for you is probably bent all over the place by now thanks to that tickle party. Don't even try to complain about it; you brought this upon yourself, you stupid Bro.”

Dave tossed a small package by the size of a palm which Dirk caught with ease and a raised brow. So Dave really did have a present. He didn't just make it up to challenge Dirk after all. 

“But this isn't our birthday,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly. He'd taken on calling it *their* birthday when he found out both of them were incidentally born on the same day. Dave snorted. 

“No shit,” he shrugged. “Just open it, asshole.”

“Keep calling me that and I'll have your asshole the next time we ride Maplehoof and see if you like that,” Dirk bit back plainly, no trace of the slightest bit of venom in his words as he worked the neat wrappings off the present. His eyes went wide as a saucer when he saw a deep magenta painted metalic piece in the shape of a heart with the right side hollowed out on the inside. It had gold painted chain attached to it. The metalwork was immaculate and it seemed to have been made with great care. Dave started fidgeting nervously on the side as Dirk stared at his present in awe.

“Well?” Dave tried breaking the silence. But as Dirk peered to stare at his little brother, Dave immediately looked away, hands behind his back as he often did when he was nervous. “I just thought I should do something to one up you on the pendant you made me, you know? You can't be the only one who could do metalwork.”

Dirk was silent as Dave rambled on. “I just thought the shape was ironic, you see, since it seems you are always associated with hearts and whatnot. I thought I had to make it look cool, since heart is so girly and all. Besides Horruss said it was well designed and the colour even fits your crown jewel, and—”

“I love it.”

Dave stopped his ramblings when he saw Dirk had put the necklace on himself. The older boy grinned as he made a girly pose, accentuating the new pendant he donned. Twirling once and then twice, making a bow like a lady, the prince pretended to swoon at the sight of Dave. It had caught the younger off guard for a minute before he caught on and started playing along, bowing down as if inviting the other for a dance. Dirk let out a less-than-manly gleeful sound before grabbing Dave's arm and started 'dancing' as if they were in a ballroom. Dancing was a broad term since they were basically just spinning around like spin tops before flopping to the bed a couple minutes later, both dizzy but laughing uncontrollably. 

“Bro, you mad doof!” Dave said as he tried sitting up, only to fail as he flopped back to the bed, his sight swirling. Dirk made a retching sound as he too tried to correct his balance, only to fail miserably, laughing choppily as he threw an arm over his eyes. 

“Fuck I think I'm gonna throw up,” he groaned. “Some knight you are—you don't even know how to lead a lady in a dance!”

“Fuck you, I'm fabulous at dancing,” Dave retorted before letting out a peal of laughter. “So I take it you like the pendant?”

“Hell yeah, it's so fucking ironic what's not to love?” Dirk laughed. “You just had to top me, didn't you? Show off.”

Dave stuck out his tongue and smiled, relaxing on the mattress with his older brother on the other side of the huge queen sized bed, lying spread eagle and looking content. Dirk also smiled as he glanced at the pendant and back to his brother. He closed his eyes and felt peaceful. 

He really loved the days when he could just do this and be a kid with his brother. 

==>

But life wouldn't wait for anyone, would it? Otherwise, there wouldn't even be a story to tell. 

A couple more summer passed and both Dave and Dirk grew up some. Now 13, Dave found himself raising to the rank of a squire. His progress had been well since he started sparring with Dirk; the older was proficient with a sword and taught him a lot of things. Dave still hated swordfighting but he didn't want to get stuck as a page forever so he persisted and trained as hard as he could. Dirk always looked pleased with him whenever he managed to last longer in battle and the praises were well worth the scratches. He didn't want to disappoint the older so he did what he could to overcome his fear of hurting others. 

It's amazing how one could become numb of the sight of blood and the pain when they put their mind to it. 

Dirk had convinced him that being a squire was worth it; it would put Dave a step closer to becoming a knight like he wanted to. But Dave wasn't so sure he even wanted the position now to be honest. 

Dave didn't sign up because he craved for the noblehood in the first place; he just wanted a medium; a chance to talk to Dirk—something that he had been granted so graciously ever since he entered the castle. Being a knight…Dave still disliked fighting even though he felt more comfortable in the field by now. Being a knight meant he had to be prepared to be put into battlefield at any moment. Being a knight also meant being a captain; which equals leading other people—soldiers—into battle. He didn't like the idea of the responsibility of leading hundreds or thousands into their deaths. He didn't want their blood on his hands. 

But of course he didn't tell Dirk about this. He didn't want the older to be disappointed in him. He had offered brotherhood to Dave because of his 'noble' goal, so he didn't want to lose that. He didn't want Dirk to ever be disappointed and losing interest in him. 

Even more so he couldn't tell Dirk about the magic. 

Dave had continued the practice of magic in secret even during the last three years. He even dared to say he'd been getting better in the entire 'Time magic' thingy. He had practiced time pause endlessly and realized that he had started getting even more hold on how to control the power in him. He was confident his magic would be of so much use in battle. 

If only it could be used without having to fear death in case of exposure. 

During the last three years Dave had entirely avoided the topic of sorcery with his brother. He didn't want to take a chance of him suspecting anything. He chose to lay low and hoped the topic would come up one way or the other, allowing him to learn about Dirk's standpoint in the entire issue. But sadly enough nothing had even came close to brushing the topic at all. The number of sentenced sorcerers also wasn't at all outstanding—barely significant enough to become a topic throughout the capital. Nary anyone had been found in the last three years that Dave had suspected the sorcerers and sorceresses had left Derse entirely—although he knew it was most likely not the case. They'd just gotten better at concealing themselves—which was a good thing for them, of course.

But Dave felt so tired of hiding. 

He sometimes felt guilty for not telling his brother about the magic thing. They'd agreed to never keep a secret from each other so they'd be able to protect each other should anything rose. But Dave was afraid he'd be dead instead if he told Dirk about it. He'd be sentenced and Dirk would be disgusted with him, just like everyone would be. 

Nobody would love a sorcerer, and nobody would accompany them to their miserable death. 

The words was like a mantra to Dave to repeat to himself whenever he felt like spilling the entire thing to his brother. He didn't want Dirk to hate him. He didn't want Dirk to think less of him. He didn't know how he'd respond to the fact, and wouldn't know how he'd feel about it. He still needed time to get to understand Dirk more. 

It had only been two years, he convinced himself. 

It sometimes frustrated him that he still didn't understand a lot of aspect of the prince. He felt they were so close yet so far, like Dirk was beside him and yet, he still couldn't reach him. He was always one step further away from Dave, one arm's length away from touch. It was stupid because that's certainly not the case but he felt that way still. 

“Squire Lalonde!”

Dave's posture straightened up immediately upon hearing the booming voice of the one and only Knight Equius Zahhak. He turned around and found the man standing before him with a horse by his side. Knight Zahhak had been his mentor knight since he entered the castle and was his captain for the entirety of those years. Dirk entrusted him with Dave's training and the burly man took the responsibility seriously. Equius was always protective but strict with every one of his squires but especially so with Dave because of that. 

The older man nodded his head in greeting, one hand caressing the mane of his horse gently. It was surprising how the scariest looking were usually the gentlest. 

“Gear up, Lalonde, we're heading out,” he said shortly. Dave raised his brow in questioning. “The annual hunt. You've been assigned to accompany Prince Strider with me and Knight Pyrope.”

Oh, was it already that time of the year?

The annual hunt was the name of King Strider's favourite sporting event. Once every year, in the month of the Falling Leaves, the royal family and their nobles would head out to the forest and hunt for some games. It usually ended with a royal feast for the entire city—of which all people from every nearby town would attend just for the sake of the food and wine. The royal feast would last a couple days and lots of stupid accidents would happen during—alcohol, huge crowd, go figure. The soldiers would typically be more on demand during this event for that whole reason. 

Speaking of which, he and Dirk would normally just ditch the banquet entirely and went somewhere less crowded and simply hang out like usual; only to go back when the prince's presence was required. 

“Don't forget to get the prince's horse as well, we're heading towards the southern creek in five,” Zahhak ordered as Dave started putting the overly heavy chainmail on himself. “Also, take Mapplehoof's saddle, will you. I know she prefers to not be saddled and all but the prince might need it because of last night's rain. The ground's gonna be wet and slippery as fuck, very uncomfortable and tiring to both the horses and the riders, but we have no choice.”

Equius kept on talking about more details as Dave strapped the greatsword onto his side. The boots were heavy as fuck and so uncomfortable too but Dave knew better than to argue—the boots once saved his feet from getting amputated during one stupid training session with one other trainee. The entire outfit was still fucking constricting though. It was a wonder how the knights could move so easily in it. 

“…calm the fuck down, Squire Lalonde,” Equius suddenly chimed in as the younger man looked at him in questioning. “I know this is your first Annual Hunt and all, but please, do try and contain your excitement. Can't have the prince's attendant marching with both left boots on like an idiot.”

Dave looked down to his feet. Oh, so that's why they were so uncomfortable. His face reddened as he scrambled to retrieve another set of boots from the corner. Equius shook his head but an amused smile graced his face. 

“I'll see you in 5, Lalonde. Don't forget your weapons this time. Can't have you appear unprofessional in your first royal appearance.”

==>

The annual hunt was a yearly event with almost 50 nobles who participated in the hunt itself. Every year, Dirk would ride with his father and learnt the game until he turned 13 and was allowed to participate in the hunt himself. Ever since, he would try to impress his father by catching as many game as he could. But his father never said anything to show appreciation to his efforts. He would always try and try and always, his father would just ask him to try harder next time because he couldn't compete with older more experienced hunters. 

His companions always kept their mouth shut too because they didn't dare to disagree with their king. Dirk could see the pity in their eyes because they knew the prince did his best to impress his father but to no avail. Eventually Dirk would just stop trying altogether and just do his best for himself, lonely as it sounded, it was better to do it for someone who would appreciate it and for him, there was nobody else other than his father and himself. Since his father wouldn't appreciate him, he just had to do it for himself. 

It was only until Dave came to the picture that he started doing it to impress someone else again. 

Dave was always verbal with his appreciation. He would ramble on and on about lots of different things but at the same time he was showing appreciation and was genuinely impressed by how Dirk was capable of hunting. He would grin when the arrows hit their target, would clap when Dirk manage to fell a bird from the sky, would laugh when he missed. It was more fun when Dave was around. 

And this year, Dave would be able to join the yearly hunt. 

Dirk was estatic. Since Dave was appointed a Squire last summer, he would be qualified to participate in the event. He immediately requested for Zahhak to prepare his little brother to join the hunt. He would be there with Dirk during the boring event and would be there to lighten up the situation whereas he would usually just couldn't wait to go home to the younger. 

When Dave came marching with the rest of the recruits, Dirk's beloved horse by his side, the prince had to supress an incoming grin. The Squires went to their respective knights before following their lead towards their attendees. Dirk could see Dave was tense as he marched towards the prince of Derse with Zahhak and Pyrope. When Dave was told to hold Mapplehoof for Dirk to climb, the prince did no longer try and let our a huge grin, one which caught Dave'a eyes and immediately he could see the young Squire's posture slacken a bit as he sent the prince a small smile back. 

The horn was sounded and all the participants for the annual hunt marches with their horses and their knights in tow. Dirk smiled excitedly because this year's hunt was gonna be different. 

It was gonna be fun. 

==>

The ride into the woods consisted of several rite of passage. The priest from the temple of the Goddess of Hunting would bless the participants of before they started the game. Then, they would gather around the entrance of the woods and the king would make a short speech welcoming the participants into the event. He would cite the rules; “Number 1: Do not harm the youngs or the forest; they didn't want any trouble from Mother Nature. Number 2: Do not harm other participants. They were not there to fight with each other. And last but not least, number 3: Have fun.” 

After that, they would give a Dersite typical salutations of “May the twilight cast a shadow over you,” before the trumpets sounded, signalling the official start of the event. Soon they would begin marching their separate ways into the woods, thus signaling the beginning of the game. 

“Why is the phrase 'cast a shadow over you' be considered lucky? Doesn't it seem more like the kind of thing you say to jinx your opponent or something?” Dave chimed as he and his group trotted down the stream. Dirk raised his brow to that and Dave heard Knight Pyrope cackling to his question. Knight Zahhak breathed a sigh. “What?” Dave asked defensively, to which Dirk gave a snort in amusement. 

“It's a tradition kinda thing,” he then explained. “As you know, Derse is shielded by the shadow cast by LOHAC mountain, and thus, darkness has always been our loyal companion. Before the discovery of the oil lamp, people would use torches and such as a source of light during the night, but because of the entire darkness thing, our ancestors were different. Instead of using fire to light up their way, the army of Derse was trained to move and see in the dark. Darkness became like an ally to them as it was an enemy to their enemies. Eventually they just embraced the the darkness completely and the rest is a literal history.”

“I see, but it's kinda dark isn't it?” Dave replied. “Pun not intended.” He added when Zahhak groaned in the background and Pyrope burst out laughing. 

“Probably, but this is the Kingdom of Twilight after all. It's only appropriate to assume something dark to go along with the entire theme. And besides,” Dirk grinned. “It's ironic.”

“You and your irony,” Dave mumbled. Dirk let out a chuckle. “Imagine a Prospitian taking a part in this event. They'd think we're trying to jinx them.”

“Prospitian don't hunt, that's a myth,” Knight Pyrope grinned at Dave and he frowned at her cheerfulness. Knight Pyrope was head of the second division, the army of the Senators and the Legislacerator of Derse. He didn't see her around very often but Knight Zahhak used to speak quite highly of her so he didn't doubt of her skill. But she did unsettle him a little. 

“Of course they do, don't say such nonsense to my trainee, Latula,” Equius chided which merely earned a loud amused cackle from the said knight. “Don't mind what she said. The Prospitian hunters are some of the best in Skaia.”

“They should be because they have plenty of things to hunt. It'll be a waste not to use that abundance,” Dirk quipped lightly. 

“But it'll be a hundred thousand years before they would join our annual hunt,” Latula shrugged. “Which is a shame because we could stand to learn a thing or two from them. Especially regarding hunting and farming.”

“Even if we do learn anything, there might not be any significant meaning behind the lesson since our lands are so different,” Equius shook his head. “Besides, Prospit has nothing to offer Derse. If anything, they'd just be this country who would request aid every so often and just gives a bunch of fruits and vegetables as thanks.”

“Maybe, but let's not argue about that today,” Dirk intervened. “Today we're supposed to have fun not debate about politics.”

Dave is silent during their exchange. It was not foreign to anyone over the age of 2 that Prospit and Derse had a strained relationship. The bright and cheerful Prospit was the mirror image of Derse. Prospit was usually matriarch whilst Derse was the opposite. The abundant Prospit had not the strong army like the barren Derse did. Their court was based on democracy, contrary to Derse's own monarchy. It was always summer there, unlike Derse's long cold spell and constant lack of enough sunlight. They were opposites, but they did not attract. Contrary to that even, they lay in a very tipping scale, which of course would lean towards Derse due to its military and political strength. 

Derse was considered a very powerful country while Prospit could barely handle random small raids. It was not rare that they would request Derse's aid despite their strained relationship. Usually the King would allow the aid since such display of weakness would make the strength of Derse even more apparent to every opposing Countries. Prospit was a kingdom of its own but it might as well be a part of Derse's sovereignty for all its worth. It wasn't a formal claim but people would sometimes talk and words reached out far and far beyond the mountains and the sea. 

Yet Prospit wouldn't do anything to refute of such rumor. Probably because they couldn't. And they couldn't risk tipping the balance of the scale. They were painfully aware of their weakness and the fate of their every citizen should Derse decided it wanted their sunlight. 

“I'm just saying Prospit is better as a part instead of an ally to Derse,” Equius remarked. “But I digress. Let us speak no more of such things during the hunt.”

“Thank you, Zahhak,” Dirk sighed and patted Dave on the shoulder, stirring the pensive younger boy. He gave the Squire a small smile. “Let's just try and enjoy this period away from the castle. Who knows when we can do this again once Winter arrives.”

Dave gave a low nod and urged his horse to march just behind the Prince's. He was still thinking about the entire Prospit vs. Derse dispute. Nothing big ever really happened to Derse while a lot seemed to be happening around Prospit—or so he was told. It was to be expected, because who in their right mind would try to directly clash with the ever powerful Derse? Not that some didn't try though. 

Thing is, while Derse and Prospit were the biggest kingdoms in the land, some free-reigned countries and towns existed in the surrounding areas. Some of them smaller, some slightly bigger. These so called 'self-governing lands' stood in perfect independence yet they were usually very fragile in terms of lifespans. They were consisted of smaller parties which said a lot about their sturdiness in terms of politics and military. 

They were usually the first targets for bandits to raid and the fight didn't usually last very long, according to the stories that people told. What's worse for these people, was they couldn't ask for help from either Derse or Prospit because neither had any political relation with either kingdoms. There's no reason to even extend a hand for a stranger, because let's be honest, Dave remembered Dirk telling him once: nobody helps just every random strangers on the streets who asks for money and food. People didn't do that; let alone kingdoms. 

Especially since these settlements were usually the source of all the troublemakers. 

And assassins. 

Especially assassins.

He couldn't recount how many times the army had to order a troop to exterminate one of these 'self-governing lands' because of their mutinies and attempts on the royal family. They were stupid to think they could even put a dent on the solid walls of Derse. They'd been successful only a number of times; he remembered hearing one of the head of ministry of justice who got stabbed during a royal feast when he was still young and hadn't known the harsh world of politics yet. He remembered also learning about a few numbers of princes and princesses who got assassinated every once in a few decades in the long history. 

He never understood the point behind those attempts though. 

Seems like a bad idea trying to clash with a large steadfast country like Derse. Usually those attempts ended with the perpetrators' lands being burned down to the ground. It didn't make sense risking an entire settlement just to stir up trouble with the royal family. 

But such things happened still. That's probably just how these people's minds worked and Dave decided it wasn't worth the headache trying to understand it. 

Suddenly in front of him Mapplehoof stopped. Breaking his train of thought, Dave saw Dirk hunch his back a little, hands moving to grab his bow and arrows. He noticed Zahhak and Pyrope mimic the prince's movements and he started looking around for any sign of anything. Did they find something already? 

He then heard the slow footsteps, light and timid. In the clearing, a delicate looking golden brown Elk stepped out of the bushes towards the stream. He saw the prince smiling in excitement and he also held his breath. This would be a great first catch and everyone seemed to think similar thoughts as Equius and Latula appeared to have their gaze fixated at the beautiful creature, waiting for their lord to claim his first game. Dirk grabbed a lone purple arrow and pulled the string of his golden bow slowly as to avoid making any noise. It shouldn't matter though, because the stream was making a lot of sound, enough to nearly mask the sound of leaves crunching beneath one's steps completely, let alone a bowstring being pulled. 

Wait, what?

Dave turned around and looked towards his surrounding area. Did he really just hear someone walking? His eyes widened upon catching a movement in his peripheral vision and was about to turn and warn the others when Mapplehoof started and jolted around, throwing Dirk off balance, sending the prince off his tall horse towards the ground. The horse spooked Dave's own and he also got thrown off his ride, only his fall was cushioned by the nearby bush. The knights were caught off guard and were just turning around when a figure suddenly leaped out of the shadow, glinting knife in hand. The figure made a show of leaping on Mapplehoof's back as they jump forwards. 

Towards the still stunned Dirk. 

Dave barely had any time to think as he extended his hand in utter panic. 

And 

Stop. 

The attacker froze in the air, staying unmoving against the gravity, just there levitating like a statue being hung on an invincible string. Dirk's eyes were wide in disbelief, just like Equius's and Latula's were. Dirk's head whipped towards Dave and his gaze was painfully disbelieving as he caught the sight of his squire. Dave still had his trembling hand stretched out towards the assassin, a number of gears and clocks floating in the air like it was made of wisps so thin, almost invisible if not for the low lighting of the woods area. 

“…Dave…? You—”

“M-move!” Dave sputtered. Startled, Dirk did just that, jumping back from his previous position like it burned just to stay there. Dave winced as he felt his magic dissipating and the attacker's movement returned. The man—it was obvious he was male now—resumed his halted movement and stabbed the now empty ground. He seemed confused for a moment before whipping his head to the prince who still had the most bewildered look on his face. He was about to resume attacking when an arrow suddenly stabbed him in the back. Behind him, Equius threw down his bow and jumped from his hoofbeast, followed by Latula as both rushed to apprehend the man, pushing him to the ground. 

Just as Dave began to breathe a sigh of relief, a hand grabbed his wrist and for a second he was pulled to his feet before being pushed down to lie on the ground, Knight Latula Pyrope on his back, sword on the side of his neck threateningly. He looked at Latula in panicky and confusion but she just stared at him with a look that was a mixture of anger, disbelief, and pity—almost regretful. 

“Latula!” Equius started. But the woman just shook her head and hissed at the other knight with a disgusted look. 

“Save it, Zahhak, I'm not hurting him,” she said. “Provided he does as told and not fight back. I suggest you do not try any other stupid thing because it would make the situation even worse, ***Sorcerer***.”

Dave gasped as Latula's foot pressed even firmer against his back. He looked towards Dirk who was still frozen in his spot, looking at Dave with the most disbelieving, utterly horrified look on his face. Equius moved to his side and held his shoulder, ushering him away back towards his horse as Dave pleaded at him with his eyes. But the older knight just shook his head and looked away as Pyrope pulled him from the ground and tied a rope around his hand so firmly it hurt. 

“I remind you, don't try anything funny, Sorcerer. Otherwise I would have to coerce you into submission myself and believe me when I tell you it's not gonna be pretty, so let's not do this the hard way okay?” She growled at Dave. She made him climb onto his own horse before climbing her own and urged the two horse to march back towards the castle. 

Dave took a glance back to see the still very alive, but very horrified looking Dirk, whose figure got smaller and smaller as his horse took him further and further away. As they marched towards the castle ground, deep in Dave's heart a hidden fear rose and started to spread its tendrils, reaching to every corner, unlocking a dark demon that threatened to rip him apart. Orange started dancing around in his head, licking at his limbs and pulling at his ankles, leaving charred black traces at its wake. The image wouldn't leave his mind, his heart continued to race uncontrollably as Knight Latula pulled their horses towards the barracks. Dave never felt so small before as the gates of the dungeons creak open, darkness welcoming him with open arms .


	5. Us Against The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter warning.

Darkness was an ever present companion to the Twilight Court.  
  
The entire kingdom was always enveloped in dark shadows from the volcano on the southern border of LOHAC. It was also the favourite country of Father Winter. Even the hottest days in Derse were usually still overcast with clouds.  
  
That being said, nothing compared to the darkness of the Dersite dungeons in all of the Twilight Kingdom.  
  
There were always guards standing nearby the entrance/exit of the entire area. Dave remembered visiting the dreaded place during an errand once. The moment he stepped in front of the soldiers, Dave could immediately smell alcohol in their breaths although they saluted him normally as if they haven't been caught drinking at work. However, it wasn't like Dave couldn't see it from their perspective. They were no doubt bored out of their mind, because nothing could ever happen in the dungeons of Dersite Castleground; the most secure prison in the entire continent.  
  
The bars were made of the hardest steel found in the deepest mines of LOHAC. They had also barred windows installed in each cell with steel so in the night one could still see the moon and stars above the sky. The opening wasn't big enough for anyone to fit; just to allow light from the outside world to enter the otherwise crampy and low-lighted space. But of course, there were barbed wires installed just outside the windows just in case anyone could fit the 7 inches wide opening. It might be worth mentioning that the ground outside were overgrown with brambles, and also, lots of bushes that would make so much noises when stepped on. There was nothing one could do to escape unnoticed.  
  
Some said that the dungeons were riddled with demons who would whisper to the prisoners at night. They said one could hear screaming coming from the cells sometimes, even during the day. If you were thrown into the dungeons, chance was you were in for a serious crime, so there was no hope of ever getting free again. Either you were in for life, or you would be executed anyway later on.  
  
Or, you could go crazy from all the demonic whispers; that is, if you were lucky.  
  
That being said, the dungeons were the biggest nightmare fuel of every citizens of Derse.  
  
Once Latula had seized and took off with him, Dave knew for sure that he was going there. He remembered passing some of his fellow trainees on the way and Dave could see the barely concealed look of relief and delight on some of their faces. Some appeared confused but most just looked smug. It hurt to realize just how few of his comrades he could actually call friend.  
  
Knight Pyrope had dragged him into the lowest level in the dungeons and threw him unceremoniously into one of the cells before locking it shut. Dave had pleaded for her to just listen to what he had to say but the knight just spared him a condescending look and turned away.  
  
“I should've known you were up to something the moment I hear that the Prince took an immediate liking to a stray dog on the field,” she told him, back facing his cell. “That's a dirty little trick using magic to get someone to like you, _Sorcerer_.”  
  
“No, Ser Pyrope listen! I didn't put a spell on him—I wouldn't! I can't!” Dave said defensively. “I didn't do anything! That was the first time I ever used my magic for anything since I entered the castle! You have to believe me; I didn't mean any harm to anyone! All I ever wanted was—”  
  
“Shut your mouth!” She snapped, which resulted in Dave immediately complying due to the intensity of her tone. “You disappointed everyone, Lalonde. Your trainer Equius had high hopes for you. Too bad he was mistaken in judging you so highly. I'll see you in the stakes tomorrow morning.”  
  
“S-Ser Pyrope!” Dave started but Latula had already walked away in disgust. The guards at the entrance didn't even respond to any of that exchange and just proceeded to ignore Dave's pleading and calling. They simply drunk their bottles of ale and carried on with their task of doing absolutely nothing. Dave thought amongst the stinking of blood and urine, the place also smelled like apathy. It even reeked of impassivity from the very few other prisoners whom he could see were completely ignorant towards any of the scene that just unfolded. He could sense more vigour in the funeral homes. Their eyes looked deader than the roasted pigs' that he used to get for supper after a harsh day of training.  
  
The rest of the day seemed to drag on. He could hear the continuous murmurings of people on the streets from the openings of the cells. They were talking about the cancelled Feast Night as a sorcerer was found in the ranks of the army and was going to be executed tomorrow and so on. He had to block his ears from further listening to more mad ramblings and theories regarding himself. How he entered the castle by using magic to cheat the entrance test; how he gained everyone's heart by bewitching them; how he was trying to get close to the prince in order to usurp the throne etcetera.  
  
It hurt to listen to them. It hurt to think everything just went south so quickly and just this morning he woke up with his prince lying on the other side of the huge bed they were so used to sharing now. It hurt to remember his face as he found out about Dave's curse. It hurt to think how he would look the day of his execution—which was supposed to be tomorrow morning.  
  
Was he really gonna die? God, he didn't want to die!  
  
The thought of death consumed him for hours as he pondered about how everything had gone so wrong in such short amount of time. Fuck, but what was he supposed to do?! If he didn't use magic, Dirk would've been seriously injured—or died even! That was a no-win situation for him! That wasn't fair! That wasn't how things should've been! If only he had realized sooner—if he had only been more attentive to his surroundings, this wouldn't have happened!  
  
And night fell just as soon as the day was gone. Dave spent so much time stressing over everything that he didn't realize someone was supposed to bring dinner as the smell of food entered his nostrils. It made him feel sick to the stomach to think this was supposed to be his last meal. The guards opened the heavy entrance gate and a lady came in bringing a tray full of mediocre looking food. She put the tray on the floor before opening the food hutch and sliding them in into Dave's cell, all while having a neutral—concealed fear and disgust—expression on her face. She didn't even bother looking at Dave before walking out in a hurried pace. She seemed to stop at the entrance though, and a cry echoes throughout the musty air.  
  
“Y-Your Highness!”  
  
The surprise in the woman's voice was understandable when Dave saw the familiar figure of the red caped prince descending down the stairs. The soldiers immediately straightened up and saluted him, which he waved off. Then he mumbled something to the nearby one and Dave could hear footsteps distancing. The entire dungeon was silent now with only himself and the cold hearted prince, aside from the apathetic prisoners present.  
  
“I came to…talk.”  
  
“Dirk…” Dave mumbled as he heard the familiar tone of voice. His posture straightened up as he saw the prince approaching and he stood up, grabbing at the steel bars that separated the two of them. He hated how his heart could feel so light when he caught sight of the older boy's form, but also at the same time felt oh so heavy. The look on Dirk's face pained him; Dave knew now he had disappointed his prince. Dirk stopped a few feet away from the cage and looked down to the floor, avoiding Dave's gaze. At that moment the squire felt being pierced by an arrow would feel so much less painful.  
  
“…why?” Was the thing that Dirk said. Dave felt tears welling up in his eyes because Dirk's tone actually sounded really hurt. “I trusted you,” the prince spoke in a rugged tone. “We made a promise. But you still lied to me.”  
  
It was Dave's turn to look away. He couldn't stand to see the betrayed look and the utter disappointment, because for the love of everything holy, he tried! He tried not to! He didn't want to disappoint Dirk, he didn't want to make it seem like he had betrayed Dirk but what could he have done? It was either this or Dirk's life! How could he choose?  
  
“…I'm sorry,” was the only thing Dave could say in reply. “I never meant for you to find out like this.”  
  
“So you admit it? You've been lying to me all this time? How long have you been practicing the cursed arte, Dave?” Dirk shot and the accusations felt like a sword through his chest. Dave tightened his grip on the steel bar and shook his head.  
  
“…from summer…second year of the Fallen Moon,” he spoke with a grave tone. Dirk furrowed his brow when Dave finally found the courage to look at Dirk in the eyes and gave him a small smile.  
  
“Do you remember the Festival of Good Harvest on that year? You were there in my town, riding your caravan, surrounded by the purple knights. I still remember how bored you looked at the time; I get it though, must be boring having to just sit around doing nothing with nobody to talk to, right?”  
  
Dirk squinted his eyes. Dave knew by that look that he recognized the said event. God, he loved that he could read his brother's expression like a book, he thought as a fond look appear on his face. The sentiment might not be reciprocated however, when he saw Dirk look away in disgust before folding his arms in front of his chest. He then looked at Dave from the corner of his eyes and nodded for him to continue. Dave looked down again as if ashamed of himself for having such emotion.  
  
“I was trying to catch your gaze then too, you know,” he said with a mirthless laughter. “Pathetic I know. Me, the commoner, trying so hard to gain the attention of the highest in the Court of Twilight. What are the chances that anyone would pay me, just the boy in the crowd a second mind?”  
  
But Dirk did. The prince did pay a second mind. Even more than that, he had been watching Dave just as the younger had been watching him. It hurt to think that it felt just like yesterday he was standing under the bright LOHAC sun, in the bustling crowd trying to get a good look at the marching caravan. He still remembered everything so vividly, even now as he stood in the darkest dungeon of the Twilight Court.  
  
“I saw the arrow when I was trying to move in the crowds,” Dave's eyes grew cloudy when he recalled that fateful day. “My mind went blank. I barely knew how to do magic back then. I didn't realize I— I didn't even do it voluntarily.”  
  
Dirk's eyes widened as he recognized what Dave was trying to say. The squire didn't stop to confirm his suspicion, however, and continued, “I came to realize that my magic, the cursed arte that everyone had come to fear, it could save people,” he said in a half-hopeful tone. He still remembered the sliver of pride that he felt that day. “I could protect people with this power; I could save people's life! I could protect _you!”_  
  
Dirk's face contorted with something Dave didn't know what to call, but he gave the prince a small fond smile nonetheless. “I started studying the technique I thought would be useful. My mom, bless her soul, helped me learn. She was a master sorceress by the way. Taught me everything I know,” he said with a longing tone. “When she died, I felt so hopeless. I had believed she would continue to guide me for years to come. I thought she would be there when I need her, always. I thought we still had a long time.”  
  
“But I was once again, the fool,” Dave closed his eyes and his smile turned to a grimace. “I would've done everything I could to save her too. But I couldn't. She was taken away from me, leaving me with nothing but memories, and the 'curse' to keep me going. I decided then, that I wanted to pursue my dream. I wanted to go to the Court, wanted a place inside the Purple Tower, wanted to be able to see you, to protect you.”  
  
“Dave…”  
  
“I'm just—I didn't understand my own feelings, Dirk. I still don't,” Dave shook his head, his throat felt extremely dry all of a sudden and the voice that came out didn't sound like his. “I just feel like we were meant to be with one another, that we could accomplish so much together. I feel connected to you. I wanted to be able to see you from up close...I hated just being 'the boy in the crowd', only watching from afar…not being able to get to know the real you…”  
  
Back then, on the days he spent longing for the prince, Dave had always been forced to acknowledge the gap between them. The distance was like a chasm that smiles so wide in mocking him. It whispered to him, taunting him on the fact that the true distance between him, a simple commoner and Dirk, the royalty was too big, too wide a berth to cross. Even his mother warned him about it.  
  
But he never listened.  
  
He never listened and decided to make the leap. The naive 10 year old him decided to take the risk and crossed over into the realm of the unknown.  
  
And for a while it seemed that his faith had paid off.  
  
For a while Dirk was so warm and welcoming, very accommodating to his clinginess and so, so reliable. It wasn't until two years had passed and he realized something that had been nagging on his mind since he first got to know Dirk. Something that he didn't want to admit.  
  
“…that is until I realize that in truth, I know almost nothing about you, if at all, even after all these years,” he said, and for a moment Dirk looked taken aback when he heard Dave spoke. “We talk, of course. We spend countless nights talking about everything and nothing, and yet I still don't understand you. Sometimes I even feel like you actually don't want me to understand. Even though we are so close, I still feel like the presence of that huge gap mocking me, telling me that I never got a step closer from when I was still the 'boy in the crowd'.”  
  
Dave had never felt more anguish before as he admitted these things out loud. All the pent up emotions, the denial; he felt like his brain just went on overload. There was no way he could stop talking now if he tried. Dirk had always acted as his source of comfort and understanding when it came to anything else, but these? He didn't have anyone else to talk to about these. If anything, Dirk was the source of every stress that came with these feelings.  
  
He didn't want to blame Dirk about it, but the fact was that Dirk ignited these painful thoughts in him. He had tried to turn a blind eye on them and just bask in the goodness of their relationship. But everything always felt so…fake. So forced. So shallow. Their relationship felt so frail like if Dave gripped on it too tightly, it'd break into irreparable pieces.  
  
“But as much as it hurts having these feelings, the days I spent with you were still the happiest days of my life. I can't describe how much it meant to me, having you by my side,” Dave shook his head, his hands trembling on the steel bars that seemed so keen on keeping the distance between himself and his brother. “You came along exactly when I needed someone to lean on. You supported me and kept me afloat, I—I can't tell you how much it helped me after I lost my mom, I—Dirk I—”  
  
Dave choked up a sob, eyes brimming with tears as he lifted his face, red meeting orange with the intensity that felt so desperate in it's wake. “...I don't want this to ever end…!” The tremble in his voice was unavoidable. “Even if we were just playing pretend, I treasure every moment of it. I would rather lose everything else rather than to lose whatever this is that we have…That's why I didn't say anything; I don't want my 'curse' to fuck this up like it fucked up everything else in my life.”  
  
Dirk visibly stiffened, his brows furrowed even deeper than before as he closed his eyes, grimacing. “Alright, that's enough. Stop it.”  
  
“I always feel so much less alone when I'm with you,” Dave sobbed out with a desperate tone, ignoring Dirk's semi-commanding tone. “I was so happy when you told me you had been watching me too. I was happy that you deemed me worthy of being associated with. I was so happy my heart could burst when you asked me to become your brother. I felt everything was finally changing for me. I felt like I could finally breathe free.”  
  
“Dave, I said, stop it.”  
  
“I was scared, Dirk,” Dave sobbed out. “Everyone scorns this…this 'curse', they looked down upon it like a piece of dirt and I—I don't know how you feel about it either. I got scared just thinking about how you might feel about me after knowing about it. You forgave me my lowly status, but would you have forgiven me my 'curse'? I didn't choose to be born with it, I didn't even want it. But that didn't stop it from plaguing my life with its presence. I have to live with it, Dirk; I don't have a choice!”  
  
Dirk gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body turned taut with strain, the grip on his sleeves tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Dave, enough; I don't want to hear anymore.”  
  
“Please forgive me, I never meant for this to hurt you; to hurt us. I didn't want you to hate me, Dirk, I'm s—”  
  
“I said _**shut up**_!” Dirk yelled out. “Don't speak my name with your tainted tongue, you piece of _**cursed filth**_!”  
  
…  
  
There was a deeply suffocating silence that followed, one that felt so long yet in reality probably only lasted a couple seconds. The tense silence was like a void that seemed to want to swallow everything in sight.  
  
If only the void could've swallowed him too, Dave would've been happier, perhaps.  
  
The moment Dirk spat out his hateful words, anything else Dave had wanted to say vanished into oblivion. He felt his heart breaking to pieces as his worst fear came to realization. It felt like stepping on thin ice that immediately broke and getting plunged in into the freezing cold water, losing any sort of hold or control he had on himself.  
  
There was no amount of magic in the world that could possibly fix **_this_**.  
  
Slowly, he dropped down to his knees as if the energy had been drained from his legs completely, tears streaming down his cheeks. His grip on the steel bars loosened as he bowed down his head and sobbed out a low “I'm sorry,” over and over again, even as Dirk turned around and left the dark musty dungeon and back into his own beautiful and elegant room.  
  
The spacious bedroom felt so hollow for some reason. Dirk didn't know why, but he just felt like the suffocating air of the dungeons was far more welcoming than his own luxurious, clean room. He threw himself to his plush bed and covered his eyes with an arm. The space on the other side of the bed felt unusually empty. It used to belong to someone, who up until earlier this day, had been his anchor to reality. It used to be given to this person so that Dirk could constantly bask in the closeness— the realness of their presence.  
  
The person that just pointed out that maybe they'd just been deluding themselves about the so-called relationship that they have all along.  
  
The person who just called Dirk out on all the desperation—all the act that he put up to impress the other.  
  
The same person who admitted that despite everything, Dirk had succeeded in making him love the prince.  
  
Just like Dirk had wanted.  
  
…what had he done?  
  
He didn't sleep a wink that night.  
  
== >  
  
Daybreak came through the barred window of the prison like a death sentence. Dave didn't know he could've dreaded the sun so much before. Shades of orange and ember shapes had riddled his night terrors, but the sight of the sun wasn't quite a salvation as it was supposed to be. As soon as the first gong of the clock tower resounded all over the city, the sound of heavy footsteps of the purple clad guards could be heard echoing against the concrete walls as they made their way into the dungeons. He watched with bloodshot eyes as they calmly and professionally unlocked the cells and entered his personal space, all the while not saying a single word.  
  
They didn't say anything either as they began stripping him bare.  
  
He could've frozen them in time, run out of the cell like that and be free.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
What's even the point, he told himself as he let them tie his hands behind his bare back. Nothing good ever came from magic. It took away everything and fixed nothing. And besides, even if he did escape this, he had nowhere else to go.  
  
He didn't look up once as they tied a piece of rope on his neck. He let them pull him out of the place like a literal lamb to a slaughterhouse.  
  
He clenched his fists tightly, however, as a small metallic gear-shaped pendant came out of nowhere and appeared in his palm. He had only managed to learn this much of a time travelling technique before this incident. It was so ironic to think that it came in handy during a time like this.  
  
Deep inside, he hated himself as the thing that came to his mind was, “It's so ironic; Dirk would've loved it.”  
  
==>  
  
The crowd was enormous in number.  
  
Every citizen was there to witness his sentence, it seemed. He didn't understand the morbid fascination the people had with the sentencing. Why anyone would want to watch a person get burned to death, he could never comprehend. He vaguely remembered the first time he ever attended a sentencing. He was 7 or so and it gave him nightmares for weeks. Since then, he had made it a point to always try to find some ways to excuse himself during such an event whenever possible. He hated the idea of watching one of his kind being tortured to a gruesome death like that. Or maybe he just didn't want to imagine something like that happening to him? Who knows. What did it matter anyway, he was there in the end too.  
  
It was foolish for him to ever think he could've escaped this. It was stupid to think he could've lived a normal life. It was all because he had been a huge foolish dreamer. He could've escaped this had he followed his mother's advice. He could've escaped this had he not fallen in love with some stupid prince.  
  
He lifted his head when the sound of the horn filled the air. The king in all his glory had entered the stage, his dark red cape billowing behind him as he turned around to sit in his all too shiny throne.  
  
Beside him…oh, right beside him, sat the all-too-familiar figure of a beloved prince. The heartless one, next in line of the Court of Twilight. The prince of Derse, with his heart-shaped tiara and his candy red silken cape. His burning amber eyes stared at Dave with a loathing gaze.  
  
But Dave smiled nonetheless.  
  
He smiled at the prince; he smiled at the irony of the situation because of course, he would be there for Dave to look up to. Of course they would be back to this; him, the boy in the crowd, staring at the prince in all his splendor.  
  
The guards chained Dave up to the wooden stake, hands bound around the coarse pole on his back. He tried to block out all the murmurings and snickering, and the disgusted noise from the people around him as he focused his gaze on to the prince.  
  
It's alright, he told himself over through the frantic beating of his heart, his prince would be there watching through to the end.  
  
He wouldn't be alone.  
  
==>  
  
“Hey, what the fuck!”  
  
An unfamiliar voice rang through the air all of a sudden and Dave widened his eyes as he realized the man behind him pointing at his clenched up fist. He realized too late that the man had noticed the pendant in his palm and alerted the guard about it. He was too panicked to even do anything as the guard snatched the pendant from his grasp and let it hung in the air for all to see, and something inside Dave broke.  
  
_“Nobody would accompany a cursed man to his death_.”  
  
Nobody.  
  
No one.  
  
_**Nothing**_.  
  
== >  
  
“ _Give it back! Please don't take it away! Don't—it's—you can't— I— give it back!!_ ”  
  
Dave didn't realize the scream was coming from him while the air surrounding them was distorted with unrestrained and raw magic. The crowd was quickly becoming restless as the guards also stepped away in fear. Dave tried struggling, tried freeing himself from the bounding pole. He had to do something! Use magic! Anything! Just—he just had to—  
  
A smack to his cheek snapped him out and he widened his eyes when he realized a stray piece of stone just struck him in the face. He caught sight of a little boy in the crowd who had thrown the stone at him. He recognized that kid. The little baker's son.  
  
It was the little kid who would grin at him fondly when Dave handed him an extra piece of gold for their warm freshly baked bread. Someone who used to offer him a piece of apple pie every time he passed the small shop.  
  
_No one would accompany a sorcerer to his death_.  
  
The guards took advantage of this distraction and rushed to Dave's side, beating him up with sticks and poles. Dave sobbed out pained noises but his eyes never left the one who had his pendant. Even when the guards had stopped, and he was covered in more bruises than ever, he still had his gaze fixated on his pendant.  
  
On his memories.  
  
On his and Dirk's time together.  
  
On the splinter of illusion of the bond that they shared.  
  
_Not even that_ , he sobbed as he watched the guard walk away from the stage. _Not even that belonged to him anymore_.  
  
The tears were drenching the wounds on his face where the guards had struck him and caused dull stinging pain. Yet nothing could compare to the pain he was experiencing inside. Anguish melted into despair, fear giving way towards regret.  
  
He hung his head and wept silently as he mourned every decision in his life. He didn't even notice the way the crowd started murmuring even louder and pointed towards him accusingly as the guards announced his 'sins' to the public. He felt numb. Dave didn't even felt fear anymore. Not even when he heard the sound of a torch being lit.  
  
He wondered if his mother would be disappointed in him, too.  
  
== >  
  
Suddenly the crowd let out a collective gasp and Dave lifted his head slowly to see the guard holding the torch froze in his steps. The man who had his pendant was on the ground, unconscious. But it was the one who had knocked him out that had rendered the previously bustling crowd speechless.  
  
Dirk?  
  
What was he doing?  
  
Dave widened his eyes in disbelief as the older boy bent down to pick up his discarded pendant from the ground. He had his sword unsheathed and for a moment Dave hoped Dirk would be so merciful to run it through his heart, granting him a more prideful death.  
  
He found himself fearing that less than the fire.  
  
“Drop that torch, right now!” Dirk barked a stern order to the soldier holding the fire. He obeyed and dropped it to the ground as if the heat of the lit ember had burned his skin. Dirk marched to the stage where Dave was being bound. “The rest of you! Move!”  
  
Dave held his breath as he watched the soldiers move away from him. Dirk sheathed his sword and stood in front of Dave, an unreadable expression on his face. Dave thought he caught a glimpse of an apologetic look when he suddenly  
  
very gently  
  
moved to place the pendant around Dave's neck.  
  
He stepped back as Dave stared at the necklace with renewed tears in his eyes. Dave lifted his face, Red meeting Orange as a big genuinely happy smile bloomed on his battered face.  
  
“Thank you…Your Highness…”  
  
It came out more like a sob, and it elicited yet another expression he had never seen before from the older boy. Dave didn't care though. He focused his gaze on the pendant, on the memories of warm meal and light talks, of midnight meetings and secret lessons, of roaring ember and the sound of hammer against metal as two figures huddled against one another on that one evening in the smith's workshop. The warm recollections enveloped him like a summer evening sun and erased every bit of numbness in his heart.  
  
Even though he was certain that fear would soon replace the warmth, Dave embraced the emotion wholeheartedly.  
  
Because he wasn't alone anymore.  
  
==>  
  
“What the hell are you doing, Dirk Elizabeth Strider?”  
  
The stern voice of the king echoed throughout the field. Dave lifted his head to see Dirk still standing in front of him, on the podium where the execution would take place. The king had a held-back furious expression on his face, and the crowd was also staring at Dirk expectantly. Dave stared at his prince, only to find a resolute expression on his face. He didn't know what to expect when Dirk suddenly turned around and faced his father from the execution ground, from the podium piled with straws and wooden sticks.  
  
From the point of view of a lowly commoner.  
  
“I am sorry Father, but I cannot let you kill this boy,” the prince spoke with what Dave had known as his 'bargaining' tone. He stood in front the red eyed boy, arms stretched in a protective stance. The king squinted his eyes suspiciously and opened his mouth, questioning with an accusing tone that fell out like an arrow.  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
Dave could see that Dirk was swallowing nervously when he replied, “Because he has done no wrong,” he defended. “What he has done is save my life. You could ask everyone who was present that he stopped the attempt on my life. He did so in exchange for his secret being found out. I ask you, does such a valiant act merit death? What I see is an act of bravery and loyalty. Please tell me, Father, are we not supposed to reward such loyalty instead of punishing it with the worst kind of death?”  
  
The crowd murmured their disbelief and the king scoffed. “An act of loyalty, you say?” he said it like Dirk had just made the most unbelievable claim in the world. “A cursed being is not capable of loyalty. If anything, he is trying to convince you that he did that out of loyalty. The forbidden act deserves death, have you not learnt that much?”  
  
“On the contrary, Father,” Dirk retaliated. “Dave is probably the person I know with the deepest understanding of what loyalty truly is. You do not know him like I do. And neither of us know anything about this forbidden arte. But one thing that is clear is that it is not his fault, or any of those sorcerer and sorceress's fault that they were born with this...'curse'. Are we so low we are going to condemn someone because of their birth? Tell me you do not believe that it is wrong to detest someone because of how they were born.”  
  
His word made some people in the crowd look away shamefully, although some uttered complete disagreement, they knew better than to speak out loud against the prince of the purple throne. But the king wasn't anywhere near conserved in the face of his son's challenge. Better yet, he responded with half-amusement half-mockery. “Don't be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “This 'birth' that you speak of, this is the exact cause of the countless lives lost on that day a hundred years ago. This 'condition' is what brought pain and suffering to our land. Have you not learnt the extent of the damage done to our people? Have this cur bewitched you to believe that a cursed being is capable of anything near good?”  
  
“Dave is nothing of such!” Dirk waved his arm indignantly. “He would never do something so ridiculous as to bewitch me!”  
  
“And how would you know that?” the king challenged back. “How would you know he wouldn't just use you for his own gain? Notice where you are right now, right where he needs you to be: protecting him from a certain death. How would you describe that as now, I wonder?”  
  
Dirk stood tall to his father's taunting as his tone leveled into a certain and unwavering one. “Dave Lalonde is my own sworn brother,” he declared with pride, so much so that Dave's eyes started watering again. The king's response was of startlement and disbelief, yet some of the knights merely had a look of acknowledgement, even some of Dave's old 'colleagues' had a bitter look of knowing on their faces. “I describe this, me standing here protecting him now as an act of love. One does not leave his brother when he is in danger, and that's exactly why I stand here right now, because I believe in the honor that is our oath. I believe in the act of love when he saved my life.”  
  
The murmurings in the crowd was now a mix of indignant disbelieving protestations and worried murmurs consisted of gasps and clamoring. The face of the king had shifted towards rage and his fist was clenched on the golden hilt of his sword. Dirk, however, didn't seem bothered by this and pressed on. “I beg of you, Father, consider this an act of mercy. And of justice. What happened in the past was too, of justice wasn't it? They took lives and therefore lost theirs. What Dave did was save a life, _my_ life,” he said. “Isn't it only fair that he at least, gets to keep his in exchange? He—”  
  
“Dirk Elizabeth Strider, you stop this nonsense right this instant!”  
  
The king's response shook the entire ground into silence. Dave swallowed as he watched the mighty king stood from his throne. He half expected the man to order his soldiers to execute both him and the prince right at that instant, but what he did was stood still, gaze firm and posture commanding.  
  
“Have you had enough making a fool of yourself? Now then, listen to me,” he said in a kingly voice. “A lot in the past suffered a great deal from the meddling of the sorcerers and sorceresses. They wracked the balance of our world, and some of them abused this power of theirs to squash other people beneath their feet. I understand your sentiment; not every magicians have done this kind of deplorable act, but we have made it clear: such practice are forbidden in consequences of death. We haven't been unfair; such rule exists in order to protect us, the non-magic folk. Those who commit such act, know fully well of this rule and do so acknowledging the consequences for their actions. Now tell me, if only one magic user should commit a deplorable act of taking human lives or belongings but then they also saved the life of a royalty, should I be pardoning them too? If so, wouldn't it be unfair for the people who lost their lives?”  
  
“That—but Dave hasn't—”  
  
“Listen to me until I'm done, Dirk Strider,” the king interrupted. “I know your little squire might not have done a thing wrong, but should I forgive him just by the fact that he saved a royalty's—your—life, then if any such similar thing were to happen again, it will require that I pardon the other people as well, disregarding whatever damage they have done in the first place. It's the way justice works.”  
  
Dirk's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to retaliate again, but he couldn't find a thing to say. “Know that I sentenced him not because he saved your life, but because he disregarded the rules I have made clear to exist,” the old man spoke clearly, not a trace of regret in his voice. “I know your squire saved your life and I am grateful for such valiant act. However, if I start to make exceptions, I'll have to do so again in the future. And who knows what kind of people would take advantage of that. You understand we must never let our emotions get the best of us. You are the prince, so I let you get away with your little flights of fancy but I draw the line in twisting the law.”  
  
“I won't risk the future safety of my people because of one act of loyalty, not for anyone, not even you,” he declared, a tone of finality in his voice. “That is my answer.”  
  
Everything his father said made sense. Everything, every single defence that Dirk had in mind vanished by the words of his king. He looked down in defeat. What was he supposed to say to that? What could he say that could turn things around? With that basis, what even could he say other than–  
  
“…I understand.”  
  
Dirk snapped his head backwards. He didn't expect to hear the words coming from his little brother of all people. Dave was pale and his eyes squinted in poorly concealed fear but his lips were quirked in a sincere smile. “It's alright Your Highness,” he spoke with a soft trembling voice to Dirk's bewildered face. “Thank you for trying to defend me. Thank you for standing up for me.”  
  
“I'm so glad to have met you,” he grinned widely despite the tears that were still streaming down his face and his trembling lips. “Thank you for everything.”  
  
How?  
  
How could Dave seemed so—so **_goddamn_** content with everything? How could such he accept Dirk's failure so easily? How did such resignation come so readily from someone so young?  
  
It made him want to scream and tear at his hair because God, such words shouldn't be coming out of a 13 year old! A child shouldn't be at peace with death like this!  
  
But he couldn't do anything.  
  
Dave had saved his life in exchange for this…humiliation, punishment…and he couldn't do anything to return his act of love. He was powerless! He was the prince of the most powerful kingdom and he was powerless!  
  
Suddenly realization dawned on him and he smiled bitterly to himself. Who was he kidding. He was not strong. He was the prince of the most powerful kingdom but he heralded not even a splinter of that power. He was always a weakling, a failure of a successor. He was the one incapable of ridding himself of his emotions. His incompetence was the cause of this. In his loneliness he dragged Dave into this whole tangled up endless string of mess that was his life. He was the reason Dave was there chained up like a sinner who never committed a single fault in his life. He was the one who roped Dave into this whole convoluted idealized form of a faux familial relationship. It was his fault and he had hoped he could've gotten him out of it.  
  
But lo’ and behold he was useless as usual. He claimed to be the older brother and yet Dave was the one being stronger. What sort of guardian figure was he? He couldn't even protect his little brother when it really mattered. He couldn't even **_ask_** for a favor from his own father.  
  
He sneered inwardly. Who was he again? The prince of Derse? The future king of the most powerful country?  
  
What a fucking joke.  
  
Dirk let his shoulders drop and he turned to his father with a resigned face. “…I understand,” he said with a polite bow. “I'm sorry for causing a scene.”  
  
The prince slowly climbed down the stairs of the podium and took the fallen torch from the ground. He handed the torch back to the bewildered soldier and patted his shoulder. “Sorry for startling you, please, continue with your job,” Dirk said with a half-smile. “And tell that poor dude I knocked out that I'm sorry for me, will you.”  
  
With that, he stepped to the side and bowed down a perfect 90 degree bow to the king. Such a peculiar act made Dave's brow furrow and he started questioning what Dirk was planning on doing, especially when he performed a straight about face movement and walked back to the podium. As he climbed the stairs, both Dave and the king made a similar kind of distraughted confused face.  
  
“Your highness what—”  
  
“Dirk what in the world do you think you're doing?”  
  
Dirk stopped on the edge of the podium. He turned and gave a small regretful smile to his father as he spoke his reason with an unwavering tone. “It's decided that I cannot plead for Dave's life,” he said. “But it doesn't change the fact that he did save mine. And I have been extremely ungrateful and cruel in response to that act of love.”  
  
In that moment his eyes met with Dave's and the amount of pain in the orange orb was so alien, so…foreign that it rendered the sorcerer speechless.  
  
“So, in respect for his loyalty, and as a result of my failure to honor it, I do not mind that I should die with him.”  
  
The crowd let out a collective horrified gasp and the king widened his eyes, jaw dropping as Dirk let out a small smile. “We swore to be brothers until we draw our last breath; **_I_** swore that I would,” he said. “You always taught me never to go back on my word. So I won't.”  
  
With that, the prince continued marching towards the chained up Dave. Dave himself had a horrified look on his face as he met Dirk's solemn gaze. He knew that look. Dirk wasn't fooling around.  
  
Was he seriously attempting to die with Dave?  
  
“Your Highness, don't—please, don't do this! I don't—this is not what I—I don't want you to die too! Please stop this, stop—”  
  
A hand covered Dave's mouth, stopping his stream of words as he watched Dirk's expression contorted into one of hurt and comfort at the same time. “Shut up. You don't get to order me around. I'm the older brother here,” Dirk gave him a pained smile. “Besides, what you want doesn't matter,” he let out a faint chuckle. “You lied to me, remember?”  
  
Dave felt tears prickling in his eyes again because, no, this wasn't what he wanted! He didn't want Dirk to die! This is the exact opposite of what he wanted! He didn't want Dirk to—he just—  
  
The next thing Dirk did, startled him to silence. The prince undid his long silken cape and draped it gently over Dave's naked form. The soft material enveloped him like a protective barrier that could shield him from everything. This wasn't a simple act and both Dirk and Dave knew it. For a royalty, their cape symbolised their own honor. For Dirk to be doing something like this—the act was reserved only for those deemed very important to the owner of the cape. It was to symbolise the love the royalty felt for the person given the article, and Dirk was doing it in front of everyone present. In front of his father.  
  
To a cursed filth that was unworthy of anything.  
  
Dave felt like his heart had leapt to his throat when suddenly Dirk began circling his arms around Dave's trembling form. He took the younger boy's head and pressed it against his shoulder. Dave then heard a gentle whisper in his ear: “I'm sorry for…for everything,” Dirk said in a very un-Dirk-like tone. “I'm not leaving you alone. I'll stay with you, no matter where you have to go.”  
  
It was right then and there that Dave started crying like a baby again. He buried his face in the prince's shoulder as Dirk soothed him, caressing his hair gently, murmuring soft hushing sound in his ear. He felt so loved his heart felt like it would burst. What did he ever do to deserve such kindness and love, he'd never know. He felt so joyous but also very sad because this meant he would drag Dirk down with him. He had failed to protect the person most important to him and the thought of Dirk sharing his dreadful fate broke his heart.  
  
The crowd was restless, some of them uttering distaste and disbelief, some uttering respect. And the king? Oh the king was furious. His face was red as he watched his only son rebelling against everything he had worked for. Everything the king had fought for, was it not for him? What more could the brat want? What else did he want that the king couldn't give?  
  
Was his love so inferior to that of a fucking cur?  
  
“Bring down the torch!” His indignant voice echoed loudly and clearly in the air. The guard holding the torch gasped and looked anxiously towards the knights who stood behind the throne. The man clad in all black was unresponsive to the silent plea of the soldier, but the other seemed to be struggling to hide a stricken expression. The knight eventually gave a nod, signalling for the soldier to obey.  
  
Dave whimpered as he watched the unwilling purple clad man carrying the torch coming closer to his brother and himself. He felt Dirk's grip tightened and his whispering got louder.  
  
“It's alright, just close your eyes,” he said with a trembling voice. Dave sobbed as he realised his brother too, was frightened. “It's okay. I'm right here. I've got you. I've got you Dave. Don't be scared. It'll be over soon. I promise you.”  
  
Dave did as he was instructed; he closed his eyes and buried his face in Dirk's shoulder again. It was the most intense moment in his life as the soldier marched in unsure steps towards the execution stage. The crowd held their breath, watching silently, nervously, as the purple clad man brought down the torch slowly towards the pile of straws. Already some was catching fire from the heat igniting the petroleum. Some women on the frontmost row were already shielding their eyes.  
  
“…stop it! Stop the execution!”  
  
To say that the sudden order startled everyone was an understatement. Everyone's gaze immediately flew to where the command had came from: the king. As soon as he caught himself again, the soldier threw away the torch and wasted no time stomping on the already ignited straws to stop the flame from further spreading. Dave opened his eyes slowly as Dirk undid his embrace and turned to face his father, whose face was even more enraged than before if that was even possible. Nobody dared to utter a word as the king locked eyes with his son's sad but determined orange ones and for a while even the time seemed to freeze before the king opened his mouth.  
  
“You…are…a foolish, and ungrateful child.”  
  
The king's tone seemed to soften up at the end before he raised it again into it's usual commanding one. “Listen, all of you: today, you have watched the prince of Derse perish in the flame. Nobody, I repeat, nobody exist in the kingdom of Derse, by the name of Dirk Elizabeth Strider anymore! There is no more prince in the Court of Twilight! And I therefore banish the two of you from this land, you children of sin! Do not ever again, take another step into the sacred land of our forefathers',” the king gritted his teeth.  
  
“…lest you're going to face death by my sword.”  
  
Dave gasped and shook his head, barely able to open his mouth in response when beside him, Dirk took a deep bow. “…we understand. Thank you for your mercy…” he took a deep breath. “Your Majesty.”  
  
The king gave a maddened huff before turning around, leaving the stage without anymore words to say. “Your Majesty! Your Highness—!” Dave started, but the former prince ignored him as he worked on Dave's bindings. “Your Highness, you can't just let this happen—! We can't—!”  
  
But the former prince refused to even look at Dave in the face as he finished with the bindings. “Come on, we have to go,” he said without the slightest bit of hesitation as he walked away from the stage in a fast stride that Dave had no time to think before following the older boy's path in a rush.  
  
The crowd parted as Dirk made his way towards the gate of the city, Dave following just a step behind. Not even once did the heartless prince look behind as the two of them continue their relentless stride.  
  
Together with the sun, leaving the Court of Twilight into the darkness of the oncoming night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is hell to edit. Especially Dirk and Dave's exchange in the prison and the sentencing scene. Next is gonna be an epilogue. And an extra chapter if I actually manage to write it. After that I'm gonna move on with the next arc of this series. Thank you for all who follows and likes this story it means a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> Please pardon any mistakes in grammars. Feedbacks are welcome.


End file.
